For The Love Of The Demon
by BluemoonMusicGirl
Summary: Bree DeLune isn't an especially happy child. Her mother was murdered when she was ten, and her father is constantly drunk. She has a friend that hides in her dreams, until one night, he shows himself. She is delighted to have a way out of her life, but nothing comes without a price, especially from mysterious boys with deadly green eyes.
1. Prologue: Bree Delune

**A/N: To anyone who decided to give this story a chance, thank you for that! To any old readers re-reading, thank you thank you thank you!**

**Editing in March, 2016, because this still sucked. XD**

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Prologue:

There has always been a figure that haunted my dreams ever since I was a little girl. A presence that lingered in the darkness at the edges of my consciousness- ever watchful, quiet, calculating and listening to everything. I had no inkling if they were real or not, but to be perfectly honest, it didn't matter. When my mother was murdered in front of me at age ten, I felt completely devoid of hope. My heart shattered into millions of unfix-able pieces; that is when they first came. My father started to drink with increasing frequency following my graceful, beautiful, loving mother's burial. He spent most nights passed out in the front room of our townhouse. The neighbors didn't care what went on behind closed doors as long as we were quiet, and we likewise.

Back to the friend: the one in my mind. That's right, I have a boy that comes to me in my dreams. He never shows his face or speaks much, but I know he is there. Every night as I drift in that odd state between waking and dreaming, he finds me. He listens as I talk. He never asks for anything or makes any objections, but instead is ever-present and comforting. I know what you're going to say. I know what you're thinking. I'm not insane, I promise. Just hear me out, and it'll all make sense, but if by the end you still don't believe, alert whomever you wish of my 'condition'. I doubt they could find me, regardless.

The night he finally gave me a single clue as to who he was was on the eve of my seventeenth birthday -or rather, before dawn on my seventeenth birthday. I had stayed up till the large grandfather clock declared it to be midnight, then finally retired to my solitary room on the third floor. Our shop lay on the first, and our lodgings began at the second. The cool air flowing from my open window gently stirred my long, heavy, wavy ebony locks. I closed my stormy blue eyes in bliss at the sense of peace that washed over me in the swath of moonlight emitting from the full orb in the navy, star sprinkled sky.

It felt good, like a gift from the earth to me on my birthday. It was warning me of being one year closer to having to grow up. Shuddering at the thought, I pushed away from the window and flopped on my bed. The ancient springs creaked under my muscular weight, but I just rolled my eyes, rubbing my hands on my cargoes tiredly. In a fatigued state, I lay back without taking my boots off. The fog covered my mind, and he appeared.

Shock filled me when I realized I could see his eyes. They were a frighteningly vivid emerald, like they were plucked from an artist's palate. "Will you come with me, Bree...?" He whispered quietly. I felt a smile on my face as I whispered my agreement. He disappeared, and I was left to wake moments later in my bed, wondering if my mind had finally collapsed.

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**A/N: Alright, so... Yep. This story has come a looong way since I originally posted this prologue. It's been almost a year and a half since, actually. I'll be going through and quality checking the earlier chapters so that they're on par with the later installments. Bluemoon, over and out~**


	2. Chapter 1: Dreams Or Reality?

**A/N: If you've read before and are re-reading, a thousand and one thank yous! If you're a new reader, welcome to the family! I've gone through and realized how incredibly… well, for lack of a more fitting term, _sucky_ the earlier chapters are. I'll be editing a good majority of the chapters for quality/punctuation/etc. I'm keeping the bones of the story, so there's no need to fret! I swear on pain of death nothing major will be altered. Onto Chapter One!**

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As my consciousness slowly returned I shivered in my now cold room. Perhaps having left the window open wasn't the smartest of decisions.

I sighed, rolled out of bed, and walked to my old, heavy oak dresser to grab my glass that sat atop the structure. The water had frosted the outside of the cup, pricking my palm with how uncomfortably cold it was. My brown, form-fitting tank-top I wore under my thin, long sleeved, cotton, navy peasant blouse was riding up slightly on my back. I grabbed the hem (as I'd done a thousand times) and tugged it back down over the top of my tan, form-fitting cargo pants.

A sharp breeze made me turn around to the window, intending to close the infernal contraption. I had left my back to it for a good three minutes, and it had been open for a few hours. Sleepily, I crept across my chilled wood flooring to the large bay window, my better instincts telling me that it was exceedingly foolish to leave a possible entrance open when I wasn't awake to defend myself. I reached up to grab the bottom of the frame when a strong arm wrapped around my waist from behind, their calloused hand slamming down over my mouth as they pulled me off the bench. I jerked my elbow back into their stomach, earning a slightly uncomfortable growl from their throat. I tried to twist free, but the intruder held me against themself till I stopped struggling.

Soft lips brushed the back of my ear, making goosebumps rise all over my body. "You, are mine." A smoothly accented male voice whispered in my ear. I could feel from my back pressed against their stomach that they had a well toned abdomen. The way they caged me in allowed me to test the strength of their arms. I lifted heavy boxes all day and hacked at metal, and most people stronger than me were also adults. My attacker was a little taller, and he had leather cuffs on his wrists. I kept my head up, so I couldn't see his feet, but I was tensing for a fight. "Alright, Bree, scream and daddy finds a body in the morning..." They slowly removed their hand from my mouth, almost teasingly.

"What do you want with me?" I responded, anger seeping into my voice. They were trying to scare me; I'd scare them first. I wasn't going to dissolve into tears and beg them to leave like a damsel in distress. I would throw them out the window myself if need be. Almost as if he sensed what I was thinking, the boy's grip tightened just enough to be uncomfortable on my waist -a warning. I knew he could feel the hard muscles through my shirt; he could probably see the strength in my shoulders. Whoever this was knew I was dangerous, so it was probable he was too if he had the nerve to infiltrate my home like this.

Stay calm, Bree. Just keep them distracted while you think up a way out. I told myself, taking a deep breath. He chuckled as if his intentions should be obvious.

"Off to Neverland, Bree." He cooed, and I swore I could feel him grinning. With a shove, I was tossed out my window, tumbling down three stories. A shriek ripped from my throat in surprise more than fear, and I squeezed my eyes shut.

Seconds passed and I hadn't hit the ground. I felt that the flow of air around me had shifted. Curious, I opened my eyes instantly. I was being towed into the sky like a doll by a floating, spectral shadow. It looked like a person, but was see through and all black with glowing blue eyes. The shadow had locked its- fingers? - around my wrist in a bruising hold. We were moving impossibly fast, yet I held still. If I fought back this thing might decide to drop me, then I'd be dead for sure. The rational part of my brain began screaming that shadows couldn't grab and people shouldn't be able to fly.

This night was a lot to handle. Magically appearing boys, voices in my head talking to me, and a shadow dragging me towards a star. Was I dead? Had I hit the pavement, and this was some angel dragging me to the afterlife? My mind reeled with questions as the atmosphere tightened, thinning till I had no oxygen. Panicking, I gasped for breath, my vision going dark.

Suddenly, air was shoved into my lungs like I had been slammed into an ocean of it. I took deep, greedy lungfuls. My breath rasped in my throat (probably from the screech I had emitted as I fell). As we began to fly over crystal-clear, blue ocean waters with crashing waves and sparkling seafoam, I thought about my situation. Kidnapped by a spirit didn't seem too bad, considering all I had at home was a drunk father and a broken home. Perhaps wherever I was being towed would hold more prosperous fortunes than my rinky dink town on the edge of two kingdoms. The specter swooped just low enough so I wouldn't break anything if I fell and threw me roughly to the sand and grit. "Why are you doing this?" I shouted, wincing as I landed on a stick against my back. I stood, a little unbalanced by the change of scenery and suddenly being on land again. The blood rushed to my head, making my vision go spotted for a few seconds.

"My master has called for you. He has ordered you come." The unnatural thing answered, its voice sliding over me like another ghost. I clenched my fists.

"You can't do this! I had a family, a job!" Family was questionable. My job though, I had often looked forward to completing. Making armor for the royals wasn't exactly entertaining, but it was rewarding. "I can't be summoned like some mutt!" I snarled, my nails biting my palms with half-moon marks. The wind and sea spray tossed my raven waves away from my face. I narrowed my eyes to keep any sand out of them.

"Master said bring the girl. Shadow brought the girl." He responded, as if I was the one not making any sense. Without another word 'Shadow' flew away, disappearing in the blink of an eye.

Growling in anger, I kicked the stick I had landed on, sending it flying across the beach into the nearby jungle. Deciding it was best to find shelter in case something else wanted to drag me off again, I headed in the same direction I had kicked the drift wood. I was mindful that I still had my mother's dagger in my boot in case anything jumped out at me.

Determination lit my storm blue eyes as I set my hand against one of the gnarled trunks to climb over a fallen tree. I quickly saw that they were two completely different types. One belonged in the rain forest, the other in an arid wood. A sense of mounting unease rose in me, and I slowly slid off the tree. The back of my neck prickled hotly, signaling that I wasn't alone.

"I know you're there. Come out." I demanded, keeping my voice surprisingly even despite the jolt of fear I was experiencing. Almost like magic, a six foot tall boy with thin, pale, sandy hair braided with feathers emerged. A long scar coming from the bridge of his nose and going diagonally right to below his eye made him look sinister. His grin was visible even from fifteen feet away. I shrank back, eyeing the large club he had balanced on his shoulder.

"Greetings, Bree. Pan welcomes you to Neverland." He spoke. His voice wasn't smooth, but it was less nerve wracking than the boy's in my room. I sensed this boy had power, but not as much as my attacker. He was menacing, but it was more of a projection. My original attacker exuded confidence, power, and barely contained rage. This boy was most definitely more relaxed, almost lazy, as if I posed no threat whatsoever to him.

"Who are you, and how do you know me?" I growled, my hands shaking slightly. I clenched my fists again to hide it.

The boy laughed, "I'm Felix, one of Pan's Lost Boys. Everyone here will know you soon enough. Pan sent me to retrieve you from Shadow."

"You didn't answer both of my questions." I shook my head, planting my feet firmly. No matter whoever this 'Felix' was, I wasn't particularly inclined to be compliant after being stolen away so abruptly.

"I don't have to." He growled, the joking demeanor vanishing along with my confidence. "You can make this hard or easy -your choice, of course."

I took a step back. "I'm not going anywhere with you. I'm going home." I snapped, narrowing my eyes. Stubbornness had always been a defining trait to my personality, but so was recklessness.

Felix sighed like he had expected as much. "You better start running, Bree. Pan likes fighters."

He didn't have to tell me twice. I didn't care if I was running into a trap, but I had to get away. I darted through the forest, weaving past trees, thorns, bushes, broken branches and scattered boulders. It was disorienting to say the least. I heard a chorus of war cries filled with excitement coming from where I had left Felix. Great, there were loads of them! I pushed myself to go faster once I heard them bursting through the underbrush after me.

I needed to hide, or they'd catch me. There was more of them, and they knew this island better than I did, which didn't exactly sway the odds of survival in my favor. They probably had food, lanterns and weapons. I couldn't outrun them forever. Fear reared its ugly head again, and a spear flew by my head, lodging itself into a nearby tree. With a yelp, I turned abruptly to the right, heading deeper into the woods. My lungs began to tense, and I fought for a full breath of air but kept going. If I could run from the king's guards I could run from these strangers.

Once their shouts had died down a little I leaned against a tree. Strained, I set my hands on my knees, panting. I stabbed my fingers through my hair, pushing it out of my eyes impatiently.

"Well, well. Look what we have here..." I froze, recognizing the person instantly without even looking up. It was the boy from my room. "Bree, look at me when I'm talking to you." He growled forcefully, his fingers slipping under my chin and driving my head up.

My defiant gaze was met with calculating, breath-taking emerald eyes. I felt my heart stumble as the familiarity set in. Quickly, I straightened to my full height. He was at least three inches taller than me, but I didn't care. He had soft looking brown hair and a smirk on his lips as he assessed me. I squirmed under his scrutiny. "I chose well." He tilted my face gently, but his fingers had enough pressure to warn me he wouldn't tolerate me not doing what he wanted. This almost-stranger radiated authority, dominance practically engraved into every movement he made.

I narrowed my eyes, pulling my chin out of his grasp. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" I snapped, running my palm over my skin as if I could wipe off his touch. He chuckled, sending a chill down my spine.

"Did I forget to introduce myself?" He arched one eyebrow. Anxious, I glared at him, crossing my arms over my chest. The boy closed his eyes for a second, wetting his lips like what he was about to say was the most important thing I'd ever hear. "I'm Peter, Peter Pan, and you're on my island, Trinket."

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**A/N: Still not entirely happy with how this is, but it's better than it used to be... I hope. Bluemoon, over and out~**


	3. Chapter 2: Wake Me Up

**A/N: I don't want to make any major changes to this chapter since it's where Bree and Pan officially meet and chat and such, so it's just getting a quality check. None of the chapters are undergoing major change, so it isn't **_**really **_**important if people don't feel like re-reading them, but doing this makes me feel better so, there. It also means my old style of horrible writing won't be around to ward off any new readers. XD Chapter Two!**

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I bit into my lower lip apprehensively. So this was Pan. I had been pouring my heart out to a maniac that kidnaps seventeen-year-old girls since I turned ten. That's seven years he's gathered information on me -seven years that I had to make up for _quickly_. It was time I knew my potential enemy. Inhaling deeply, I cocked my head to one side. "So... you're the Pan Felix mentioned. Not as impressive as I'd imagined." I drawled, shrugging.

Pan chuckled, a small smile splitting his handsome features, darkening them. I forced my expression to remain impassive. I couldn't let him in anymore. I had to survive, and this boy was dangerous. He would use my weaknesses to his advantage, which meant I had to be on my toes. "Don't dismiss me so quickly, Trinket. You'll soon find that Neverland is as deadly as it is entrancing if you don't watch yourself." Pan locked his emerald eyes on me, and I wished I could run again. I was certain he had been warning me to watch my mouth, not just to keep my eyes open.

"I'll remember that." I muttered, crossing my arms over my chest to hide their shaking. "What are you going to do to me then, Peter? Lock me up? Starve me to death? Let your Boys chase me till I drop?" _Stop giving him ideas._ I mentally yelled at myself, attempting to think two steps ahead.

"First things first, Trinket: you will address me as _Pan. _Secondly, you will follow my rules no matter what. If you can manage that then y-"

"First things first, _Peter." _I mocked, narrowing my eyes. "My name is Bree not _Trinket_, and I won't be ordered about like some maid." The second I saw Peter's expression I regretted being so bold. He would make me pay for it, I was certain. Even at home in my small village, men in power didn't hesitate to inflict whatever pain they deemed necessary to ensure their every word was followed seamlessly. His eyes seemed to become black voids as they narrowed, anger flooding them. His charming smile turned into a predatory smirk. In the length of time it took me to feel fear he had slapped me so forcefully that I backed into a tree, my hand pressed against my face in shock.

"Speak to me like that again, _Trinket_, and a bruise will be the least of your problems." He spat, having come close enough to whisper in my ear. His lips were soft as the brushed the sensitive skin and I forced myself to remain still, dropping my hand to my side. If I didn't raise any more alarms it was possible I could still escape back to the beach. Almost as if he had decided that I was sufficiently warned and nothing had happened at all, he gently brushed my heavy, raven hair to one side. When his hand lightly brushed my neck electricity shot through me, scaring me. I felt myself tremble slightly as he inhaled the smell of the flowers I regularly sold and tended to off my neck, his breath raising goosebumps all over me. This 'Lost Boy's' -as Felix had called the inhabitants- influence was much more powerful than I had anticipated. "Sweet peas and orchids..." He mumbled to himself, pulling back to look me in the eyes. "Are you ready to see the camp, Trinket?"

I wet my lips nervously, tilting my head away. I scanned the area and sky, wondering where a camp could be hidden in a place like this. "If it means food, then yes." I replied cautiously, trying to recover some of the anger I had previously felt towards him. If he could disarm me that easily who knew how long I would be able to survive on this 'Neverland'! Smirking, he held out his hand. I raised my chin slightly, my breath quickening as my storm blue eyes darted from his hand to his eyes. I couldn't trust anything he said or did, no matter how genuine. I knew what people like him were when their followers weren't looking, and I didn't want any part in his act.

"Come on, Bree." He sighed, nodding to his extended hand. "I won't hurt you yet." Not at all reassured, but knowing he would get mad if I didn't accept -and I had to stay alive to escape- I set my shaking hand in his strong, calloused one. "Nervous, are we?" He arched an eyebrow, looking amused. I bit my lip, remaining silent. I wasn't nervous, I was **scared**. He knew everything about me, and I was entirely dependent on him for food now that I had been foolish and ran from Felix. As long as I kept him thinking that it was nerves, I was better off. I needed to get my bearings of this strange place before I did anything too rash. He wrapped an arm around my waist and leaned to whisper in my ear. "Here we go..."

I felt the air thin around us and the world blurred as it had when the Shadow dragged me into the sky. I tightened my grip on his hand reflexively, praying it hurt, considering my nails were digging reddening half-moon marks into his skin. I almost lost what meager food I had eaten that day, and I leaned against him, squeezing my eyes shut tight. After what felt like hours -but could have been seconds- the air returned to my lungs, and the world around Peter and I stopped spinning. I peeled my eyelids open, my heart racing -though from the teleportation or Peter's unnerving proximity I couldn't tell. A moonlit camp bustling with life unfolded before me. I gasped in surprise, my lips parting slightly. A monstrous bonfire roared in the center of the camp with handmade ropes dangling from the towering trees surrounding the clearing. At least twenty or more Lost Boys populated the area, some sword fighting, climbing, practicing with various weapons, or playing assorted games with each other. A good sum of them were dancing around the fire, beating a pair of bamboo sticks together to a hidden beat. They whooped, somersaulting over logs, sitting Boys and rocks.

"Miraculous, isn't it?" Peter grinned proudly, glancing down at me as he slid off to one side.

"It's incredible." My mouth turned up at the corners (not quite a smile but close enough to satisfy my captor).

"It could be your home if you just listen to me, Trinket." He started walking towards a tall boy that was seated near the fire, almost in the center of the dancing without so much as a 'stay put'. His hood covered his face, but he had broad shoulders and a telltale club resting at his feet. Peter conversed with him quickly, and I saw Felix's head turn to me once then back to his leader. "Trinket, get over here!" Peter called, gesturing to his side. Indignant, I huffed, but hurried to weave through the gaggle of dancing boys. As I passed through their ranks, I would guess that the youngest was no less than six, and the oldest -Peter and Felix- being seventeen -eighteen at the most. They covered every race and size under the moon, all coming from different backgrounds and with their own, unique story to tell. "I trust you've already met my lieutenant, Felix?"

I glared at the nonchalant Boy resentfully, crossing my arms. "Yeah. He tried to 'collect me' from your Shadow, as if I was some kind of package." I growled. Felix grinned good-naturedly like it was all just a game to him. I felt immediate detest for this particular Lost Boy and his self-assured, over confident grin. He thought he was better than me and didn't bother to hide it. I clenched my fist so it wouldn't collide with his jaw, irate.

"Felix was simply following my orders," Peter continued, acting oblivious to the tension in the air and the venom in my words. His superior air was as suffocating as Felix's. "Which you'll soon realize is the smartest choice. He'll be watching you and ensuring that you don't wander off while I handle a little… _issue_."

"What am I, an infant?" I snapped, rounding on Peter. "You can't be seriously considering keeping me prisoner here!"

He arched an eyebrow, smirking. "If you'd rather starve and wait in my hut till I return…?" Peter flashed a winning smile. "Or, perhaps, I should leave you in the woods to fend for yourself. I'm certain the other inhabitants would _love _to welcome you."

I growled in frustration, knowing I had been beat. In a huff, I sat down on the log beside the lanky blonde. "Fine. I'll stay here."

"Wise decision. I can't have you dying on me, can I?" Pan tapped underneath my chin, smirking as I narrowed my eyes. The Boy-King disappeared like the air had swallowed him, and I sighed. I felt so caged, like I was a pawn in an afternoon game that meant nothing to the players. I was at the mercy of an arrogant Boy and his 'deadly' island.

Wetting my lips, I turned slightly. "Alright, Felix. Where's the food?" I asked, forcing myself to sound nice even though I wanted to start a rowe for being stranded with no way out. I reminded myself that I had to play nice until I found a way out or an ally.

Felix grinned again, gesturing to a spit near the bonfire. "Take a piece, Bree. You're so thin I doubt you rarely get a steady meal back home. Rough family life, I supose?" He scrunched his nose in mock sympathy, a grin splitting his face. I clenched my jaw, reaching over to tear a leg off the smoking bird. Trying to act like this wasn't the first bit of meat I'd had in a few weeks, I sank my teeth into the seasoned flesh. A multitude of delicious flavors hit my tongue, and I closed my eyes in appreciation. "You'd be surprised how much you can make just by wishing for it here." That had to be the most I'd ever heard him utter since I'd been here without being prompted. I wondered if he usually talked a lot.

"Whahp?" I mumbled around a mouthful of savory chicken. I cocked my head, wiping a dribble of juice off my chin, blushing slightly in embarrassment. Felix scoffed, rolling his eyes with that irritating tone of '_don't-be-so-idiotic_'.

"Neverland is _magic_, Bree. You wish for something, and it appears- usually."

"Usually...?" I repeated, furrowing my brow. Now that I had some information about my prison I wasn't going to stop. I had to learn more if I was to get anywhere productive.

Felix grinned again. He clearly wouldn't tell me anything unless it benefitted him.

I took another bite of my chicken, staring at the fire. Magic. Suddenly, wandering about the forest seemed much less appealing. "Where'd Pet- _Pan_ go?"

Felix chuckled. "What, scared I'll try something? I'm not stupid, Bree. Pan would give me a fate worse than death if I touched what was his." Confused, I furrowed my brow again, gnawing on the bone I had picked clean in the few minutes.

I pretended to not be supremely offended at being referred to as property. "Alright, so I'm mostly safe -if Pan doesn't decide to kill me. And, no I wasn't worried in the first place. I asked where he was." I repeated, slightly irritated. Was no one on this island going to help me _at all_? Did everyone speak in riddles, deception, and superiority? It was like being caught in the middle of a gaggle at the castle and being pestered for being a 'peasant'.

"He went to deal with a problem. He'll be back soon." Felix shrugged, not in the least bit concerned. Irritated by his lack of an adequate answer, I prodded for more information, trying for indifference.

"That's great and all," I sighed, wiping my hands off on my hunting pants. I refused to wear dresses unless absolutely necessary, and (thankfully) the tailor pitied me after my mother died, so he accepted that I was odd and ignored it. "But isn't it a bit _odd_ to you that he didn't say where he was headed? Does he not trust you enough to tell you?" The anger that flashed across his face in the firelight said I went a step too far.

"He doesn't have to tell me. Pan trusts that I can maintain order in his absence, and I trust him to do what is right for the well-being of us and the island as our leader." He growled, turning his face back to the flames. Sighing, I studied him for a second longer before rising.

"Where do you think you're going?" Felix called, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

"To go jump off a cliff." I called over my shoulder, rolling my eyes.

He jumped to his feet, starting to follow me silently. As we walked two other Boys broke away from a crowd forming around a loose, wide circle drawn in the dirt for wrestling to flank my new shadow.

"I was being sarcastic, smart one. I just need to be alone for awhile. I'm not desperate enough to kill myself." Silently, I added, _I have to survive for Mother. She'd expect that much of me. _"Don't follow me, Felix." I sighed, pushing through the Boys to the woods, not bothering to look back. The silence told me he had (hopefully) acquiesced to my order. I didn't allow the odd notion to settle in my mind for long, shaking it off as I began the trek straight ahead, hoping I would hit a beach or shoreline soon enough. The varying trees mingled to create an oddly enticing scent -much like Peter himself. I shook my head, scolding myself for even starting that thought. The ruler of this island saw me as a possession, a game. Getting any emotions would make it messy, and I had to stay focused no matter how badly I wanted to lose myself in his eyes. I couldn't let Neverland wear me down till I wasn't myself anymore. I had been kidnapped and was now held prisoner. I owed it to Mother to get myself out.

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I had been wandering into the trees for at least forty minutes before I found a small alcove. A smooth, flat slab of natural rock provided a sitting place, and the rest of the gargantuan boulder had been hollowed out to form a cave filled with water that lapped in from the ocean. I clutched my knees to my chest, leaning against the cave wall. Despondent, I allowed a few tears to slip, finally realizing what I had lost: my freedom. The sound of the water splashing at the spacious ledge I sat on (that was only raised a few inches above the level of the seawater itself) lulled me into a sense of safety. This place wasn't corrupted by Pan's malice. I decided then and there that it would be mine and took out the only thing I had left of my mother from my boot. A slim, 10" dagger that was strapped to my calf, polished to an oil-slick black. I began the lengthy process of carving my initials into the rock face. "B. N. D." I whispered, finishing off the last letter with a soft blow from my lips. Now the secret ledge was mine alone. Satisfied, I slid my silver-hilt dagger back into its sheath, laying on my stomach to watch the stars' reflections on the water. These constellations weren't my own. They weren't the familiar beauties that dotted the night sky of my home, and that unsettled me deeply.

I can't be sure how long it was, but I eventually fell into a fitful sleep on the cool stone. I felt like a thousand knives were being driven into my body, the heated blood pooling over onto the previously cold ledge. I struggled against biting ropes that lashed my wrists together and bamboo bars that entrapped me. Poison was dripped into my wounds, and the skin puckered into ugly purple and violent red in protest. I screamed till my throat was raw, and the pain became a dull roar in the back of my mind. I saw the drunken, angry face of my father and the disappointed face of my mother, shaking her head at me in disgust. I felt the tears tracking their way through my blood-coated and bruise-ridden face. I felt suffocated, like the air had left my lungs, and dizzy, as if the world was spinning with my thoughts. I screamed for them to kill me -to make it end. And yet, through the haze, an angel found me. His wings spread behind him, massive and jet black against the blinding moonlight. He scooped me into his strong arms, cradling me to his chest. I remained limp, for any movement was agony. My head rested in the crook of the angel's neck, inhaling the smell of bamboo, a musty forest and the sharp smell of blood. He gently moved my arms to encircle his neck, taking care to hold me steady, and we rose into the air.

"Wake up, Bree. _Wake up_." A firm voice urged me, assertive.

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**A/N: That one wasn't **_**horrible**_ **to edit, but it still took awhile. The next two or so chapters are gonna be a pain in the butt though.**

**Old Outro: Alrighty, I finally did it! Chapter 2 is up for you lovelies! Thank you all so much for the continued support, I never thought my story would get this many views. 162! Thank you guys, I can't believe it, we're so close to 200! Thank you to CatchingDandelions, AllyMichele and Sra. Lahey for adding this to your favorites and alerts, it means so much to me. Also thank you to SmileyKatie for adding this to your alerts. G'night everyone! Bluemoon, over and out~**


	4. Chapter 3: Sparring

**A/N: I don't know about everyone else, but I feel **_**a lot**_ **better after editing these. I feel like this one's gonna be the biggest train wreck to fix, but, here's to hoping.**

_**Old Intro:**_ ***ducks from flying objects* I'm really sorry guys, I should have updated sooner, and I feel REALLY bad about it, but my life has been crazy lately, and I'm dealing with a lot of family problems. However, my mom, little brother and I are moving into a new house soon, so I'm super pumped for that! Here is the much overdue Chapter 3 of **_**Demon. **_**Also, I am going back and slightly tweaking the previous chapters, so check on them, okay? Thank you for bearing with me guys, I love you all! Slight foul language in this chapter, so, yeah, fair warning and all. :)**

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Disoriented, I struggled to push myself up on my elbows. "Easy, Trinket." A voice whispered softly, gently pushing me back down onto the cot. I groaned in annoyance, but the spinning in my head seemed to agree with them. Through the haze, I faintly remembered being carried, and that only _one _person called me 'Trinket', but these hands were far too gentle to be Peter Pan, and that voice held too much emotion. Spent from even the small effort, I relaxed against the cot, grateful for the pillow under my head and the darkness behind my lids just waiting to envelope me.

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Shadows of colors danced on the black canvas of my dreams, twirling, and intertwining to form blurred shapes. Murmurs of voices in deep tones tickled my ears, and a haze coated my senses. I had no clue as to where I was, or what was occurring about me, but I felt sweaty and trapped. Anxious, I kicked my legs, flailed my arms, and fell to the ground in an unceremonious heap. I winced, peeling my eyes open cautiously, the soft, white cotton blanket that had previously been tucked around me now spiraled around my stomach and leg. Clutching my tender head, I shoved the blanket off roughly, my gaze darting about for my boots. How had I fallen asleep? What happened to my bed? Where was my dresser? My nightstand? My _window_? The momentary disorientation clouded my common sense, and as I glanced around I almost believed the walls were the inside of an ancient, mammoth tree. Wait- a _tree?_

Apprehensive, I scooped the covers off the floor, tossing them back onto the bamboo and canvas cot I had been on. My dark brown boots lay on the floor -presumably the instruments that had bruised my thigh when I fell. I quickly yanked them on, knotting the laces tight over my fitted, pale-tan, cargo pants. My long sleeve, navy peasant blouse was slightly muddied, but I ignored everything my awakening senses told me in vain hope that the memories of the past few days were just horrible nightmares.

In a few seconds, I darted up the winding wooden stairs that had been carved out of the _not-a-tree_, and burst onto the upper level of _not-my-house_. A small, square-of-wood table sat near the corner with two bamboo chairs; a curtain of vines covered a smaller window. Slightly visible against the opposite wall was a crude doorway propped open with a stick. Desperate to feel the air of the busy village on my skin (even if the smells tended to be musty and slightly unappetizing), I ran out into the open.

Shock flooded me in an instant. Trees surrounded the clearing I was in, and a burned out bonfire lay in the center surrounded by fallen logs and stones. "No. No, no, no, no!" I shook my head rapidly, praying I was seeing things as my raven hair billowed in the roaring breeze. My storm blue-gray eyes widened in panic, and I dug my nails into my palms. "Wake up, Bree. Wake up!" I begged myself, the thundering clouds above me rumbling in disagreement. Tears began to form in the corners of my eyes, and I took deep breaths to calm them. I told myself I was just turned around. I had just stumbled onto a hovel in the woods for the night. I was close to the village. I could find my way back.

"Hello, Trinket. Nice to see you feel well enough to talk again." The arrogant voice dashed any hopes I had cursorily assembled. "You gave me a bit of a fright, disappearing then passing out like that." That teasing voice that was _anything_ but relieved called from behind me. Clenching my fists even tighter, I turned around to see the ever-smirking figure of Peter Pan leaning against the tree I had come out of, his black boot stretching out to knock the stick propping the door open over. "You should really know better than to run off, Trinket." He continued, uncrossing his arms and walking over to me.

"Wh- H- How-" I stuttered, all the questions in my mind trying to pour out at once. Peter arched an eyebrow in amusement, and tucked a stray lock behind my ear. "H-how long was I out?"

His brilliant emerald eyes flashed to mine, irritation brewing in them. I had disturbed his thinking, but I needed to know. I needed _answers_, and Peter was going to give them -whether he wanted to or not. "Three days. A rather large inconvenience for myself, I must say. But, I won't be letting you wander off again, so it shouldn't be a problem." He smirked again, and a cold chill shot its way up my spine as I was hit by the underlying ferocity in his tone.

"It's not like I made myself faint on purpose." I grumbled defensively, crossing my arms against the cold blowing through the deserted camp. "Where is everyone?" My wary gaze swept the barren area.

"Where you should be: training." He announced, grabbing my arm roughly and dragging me along behind him. I struggled to keep up with his long strides over the uneven terrain.

I bit my tongue so I wouldn't yelp in pain at the tightness in his grip. "What made me pass out? Who was the person that found me? Who did I keep hearing?" Peter stopped abruptly, and I stumbled over a branch that had fallen to the forest floor.

Peter's shoulders were tensed, and he took deep breaths as if fighting the urge to shake me senseless. I bit my lip, hoping I hadn't asked too much, and quickly came to my feet to dust myself off. "Some very powerful magic knocked you out when you ran away. I found you in the cave and brought you back. Lost Boys have been taking turns guarding you, so I have no idea who you're thinking of." He answered with a clipped tone, impassive. I narrowed my eyes. Years of living with my father had taught me to see lies no matter how well hidden, and Peter Pan was a _very _convincing liar.

"Well," I began as we continued our trek to what I assumed was the training area. "Someone must have noticed when I woke up. Who was it?" I probed, feigning innocent curiosity. "Someone was watching me and pushed me back down. They told me to take it easy..." I recalled, pulling the reluctant memory to the front of my mind as I watched the crackling sky. Peter spun to face me, his emerald eyes a near-black shade of green. I stopped myself from walking into his chest, my gaze darting over his features in apprehension.

"Careful where you tread, Trinket. These are dangerous water you are entering." Peter warned, taking my hand to teleport us to the edges of the clearing. Apparently he didn't trust me to not ask any more questions in the time it would have taken us to walk.

* * *

"Well, well, well... The Trinket's finally awake." A voice called once Peter had left me to go correct a few of the younger Boys in their aiming. Rolling my eyes, I kept my arms crossed.

"I have a name." I muttered in annoyance, my fingers trailing over the table of weaponry.

"Do tell, lovely?" The cocky Boy grinned, swinging his wooden stave lazily at his side.

"It's Bree. And you? May I have the pleasure of the name of the Boy whose face I'll next ruin?" I arched an eyebrow, keeping my eyes cold and my voice sharp. I hated arrogant bullies almost as much as self-righteous jerks.

The sandy haired Boy laughed loudly, as if the very notion of a girl hitting him was preposterous. "My name is Andrew." He supplied, giving a considerable amount of confidence to his tone as he made a mockery of bowing to me. I scoffed -he had no idea what he was getting himself into.

"Hey, Andrew, c'mon man." A taller, strong looking African-American Boy tapped his shoulder, shaking his head. "Just leave her alone, man. It ain't worth getting in trouble over..." I nodded once in agreement, but Andrew shook off his friend's hand and lifted his make-shift weapon.

"Come on, Bree. Let's see why Pan hasn't slit your throat in your sleep yet." I gave the taller boy an uneasy glance, but he just shook his head as if telling me to walk away from his crazy friend. Against my better judgement, I found myself stepping forward, and holding my hands up in a boxer's stance, determined to prove myself without a weapon from the table. The African-American Boy quickly retreated, and a loose circle of bystanders evolved around Andrew and I. "I'll try to go easy on you." Andrew grinned again, and I nearly gagged from the sickly sweetness in his voice.

I felt very familiar eyes burning into my back, but I ignored it. If Peter wanted this to cease, he would stop it in a heartbeat. Obviously, Andrew wasn't the only curious Lost Boy on the island. A sharp jab hit my abdomen, as my arms had gone slack in my momentary distraction. I cursed under my breath and deftly blocked the next swing of Andrew's stave with the outer edge of my forearm, clenching my jaw against the pain that reverberated up the limb. Instinct began to kick in from all the fighting I'd done on the street in my pitiful life, and I ducked under the next swing, bringing myself closer to my opponent. When he tried to hit my head, I lunged to one side, rolling to my feet with my arms loose on either side of me in preparation.

Annoyed, Andrew began to swing faster, becoming less accurate. I dodged most of his attacks, but he got in a lucky shot and the wood rammed into my shoulder. I winced and pressed my palm to the bruising area. It would be sore in the morning, but I had to focus. Andrew swung from the side, but I was ready and grabbed his weapon with the speed only years of defense can teach. Yanking him forward off balance, I side-stepped at the last second and sent him sprawling in the dirt. Cheers erupted all around us, and I risked a victorious glance up. Everyone had stopped to watch, including a certain Boy with a frown stuck on his face and narrowed emerald eyes. Half-hidden in the shadows under one of the thicker trees, Peter watched closely, his well-trained gaze not missing a single detail of the tussle.

"You bitch," Andrew spat, scrapes decorating his palms and cheek from the rough fall. "Who do you think you are, huh?" He shouted.

The question stirred anger in my chest. The insult had been hurled at me so many times that it fell on deaf ears. Who was I? I'd show him. I'd make sure he never forgot. "My name is Breeana Nicole DeLune. _That_ is who I think I am." I hissed, venom pouring off my words in rivulets. I was my mother's daughter, the baker's favorite customer, the keeper of the odd family shop, and renounced street-fighter in my village. No one had beaten me since I first started at age eleven.

A chorus of murmurs went up, and a few Boys chuckled at the sight of Andrew slack-jawed. Apparently he wasn't used to being defeated like this. He flushed red with anger and ran at me. I jumped to the side, scrambling to my feet only to be knocked down again when Andrew leaped onto my back. The air in my lungs left in a rush like the contents of a bucket that was tossed out the window. Boiling hot rage filled me, and I struggled under his surprising weight. After a few seconds I realized that I wouldn't get him off. Not like this, and not with my hand pinned under me at that painful angle. Again, I let instinct take over and went limp.

Andrew smirked, chuckling slightly in satisfaction, thinking he had won. Had my eyes been open I would've seen Peter lean forward curiously and Felix shake his head. I made my breathing sound weak, small, and even threw in a whimper for good measure. Andrew shifted his weight to take his stave from my grasp. That was my chance. I catapulted to one side with a sudden burst of adrenaline, throwing him off and into the spectators. Energized, I grabbed him by the collar of his cloak and dragged him to his feet. I shook him roughly. "Think I'm still weak, Lost Boy? You don't know strength. You don't know fear, or loss, or pain." I shook him harder once more, wiping the grin off his face as I threw him to the ground with all of my strength. He yelped and huffed for air.

I yanked my blade out of my boot, holding one of his arms down with my left foot, and the other with my knee. I set the blade against his throat, and narrowed my eyes, determined to make sure this never happened again. "You pathetic little _wretch_." I pressed on the gleaming blade slightly, drawing a red line on his scrawny, tan neck. He squirmed, and I applied more pressure on my foot and knee, making him groan in pain. "You think I'm weak?" I demanded, raising my voice. My raven hair fell about my sweaty face in curtains, and my breath came in great huffs. "Answer me!" I shouted, practically smashing the bones in his arm with the weight of my knee.

"N-No!" Andrew yelped, shaking his head slightly, careful of the blade tucked under his chin.

"You try to make a power-trip out of me again, Lost Boy, and I will show you what _pain_ is." I snarled, tapping the bottom of his chin for emphasis with the flat of my dagger before I standing. Adrenaline coursed through me, and I felt the strength of every fiber in my being. Andrew scrambled a few feet away before standing up shakily and backing away in defeat. Claps began to break out. They came slowly, then all at once like a thundering waterfall. I could hear the thumping of my heart in my ears as it nearly burst out of my chest and felt the cold sweat trailing its way down my toned back. A wide smile lit my face as I basked in the welcoming cheers. A small voice in the back of my head said I shouldn't have resorted so quickly to violence, but I suppressed the urge to apologize. I had won, fair and square, and Andrew would think twice before challenging me again.

* * *

"I must say, I'm not disappointed." Peter smirked as everyone dispersed from the grassy clearing. I was still shaking off the adrenaline rush the fight had brought on, and wiped sweat from my forehead on my arm. To pass time I tried my hand at making arrows with the help of a ebony-haired Lost Boy. The Boy hadn't uttered more than a handful of helpful words as I messily emulated his swift movements, but he seemed vaguely amused at my struggling. "You fought well, for a girl."

"Never judge someone before you know them." I advised, dying for a drink of water. We were at the front of the group, leading. I was too tired to care if we were going to the cliffs, the beach, or camp, just so long as I could rest once we got there. Felix snickered behind us, shaking his head. I glared at him and pulled on my fingers to pop the knuckles absently.

"You've proven yourself to be a useful fighter, Trinket..." Peter glanced at me sideways, and I recognized the path leading to the camp from earlier unfolding before us. The clouds from this morning had clung to the sky, but the moon shone full on the gray canvas. I sighed, wishing I could see the stars, to count the twinkling wonders, the constellations I knew, the open skies. Everything was caged in Neverland, even the sky -even Peter himself.

"And?" I prodded, sensing there was more to the statement. Peter just shook his head, the mask falling over his face again, the mask of indifference, of fearlessness and spite. The faint glimmer of hope I had that he would be more open and tell me things finally crumbled when that blankness appeared on his inhumanly handsome features that had been splashed bone white under the full moon. I sighed again and stared ahead. Somehow the bonfire had re-lit itself and was steadily building to a lion-worthy roar, popping proudly under the cover of darkness. Once we reached the edges of camp the Boys whooped and ran past us, leaving Pan and I alone in the shadows. Felix brushed past me with a devilish smile and went to sit on his customary rock near the blaze.

"You need to be more careful of the things you ask..." Peter finally spoke, breaking the deafening silence. "I've given you enough time to learn the rules of the island, Trinket. It's time you start abiding by them, or next time you won't be so lucky."

Taken aback, I cocked my head at him, taking a step back in surprise. "_Learn the rules of the island?_ No one's told me anything about this hell hole since I got here! I've been _unconscious_ for _three days_, Pan. What do you want from me?" I snapped, tossing my hands up. He smirked, staring at the fire as he took out his flute.

He mumbled -so quiet I was certain he hadn't meant for me to hear- "I've been asking that question since I found you..."

* * *

**A/N: Minor editing for punctuation and such, semi-major editing for overall lack of wellness. You may notice there is a lot of "Peter", because Bree never calls him Pan. I'm going back and checking that that is true in each chapter, because it's important later. Bluemoon, over and out~**


	5. Chapter 4: Visions Of The Past

**A/N: Same as the past chapters, I'm just editing for punctuation, grammar, quality, etcetera, etcetera. No cause for distress, dear readers! :)**

_**Old Intro:**_ **Yay! I'm writing again. But, I'm writing with upset and unsettled thoughts... Bad idea, yes, but I need to be productive. I can not thank you guys enough for all the Favorites and Follows I've gotten on this story! I'm so happy that you guys are enjoying it! Here is Chapter 4. And, here... we... go!**

* * *

The fog from the dew that had materialized that morning was still lingering like that grass stain I never got out of my old coat. A faint chill had settled in my bones, a feeling of unease filling my gut. Under the full moon the Lost Boys looked almost inhuman, their faces cloaked in shadow, lit from above and turned demonic by the flickering light of the fire bathing their faces. They danced to a song I couldn't hear. _Again_.

I folded my arms as I watched Peter play with his eyes closed, completely content. His aura of complete and total power seemed to be lax when he played, as if he, too, surrendered himself to the song -even if in just as small a way as composing it. I heard nothing, not even a whisper of air from those 'magic' pipes. The only sound was the trance-like pounding of feet on dirt and the smattering beating of bamboo on bamboo. No sound escaped their mouths tonight, not one save for their panting for breath, labored from the fast paced, hypnotic dance.

My ears felt like they were blocked, as if water pounded in them, preventing any sound but the loudest and most repetitive to come through. I rubbed them apprehensively every now and then, wondering if I'd gone deaf. All the Boys seemed to hear the music just fine, and they couldn't help but move. It was frightening watching the shadowed, hollow Boys dance in the night. They had nothing to live for but their leader whom they feared and vain hope of escape. They breathed with no purpose but to breath, and it terrified me, for what was a life worth if it held no purpose to the one living it?

I knew many were die-hard loyalist like Felix, however, there was a small handful who would give anything they had to be home again. I had heard the crying fading in and out through the night each time I woke. Off to the side I saw a little Boy, sitting curled up in the shadows like a rock. He didn't move, but I could faintly hear the sniffles of tears coming from him. The fire did not reach that far, and if I was chilly, he must have been freezing. Cautious, I made my way closer, keeping one eye on the ring-leader of the Lost Boys the entire time. Something wasn't right. Every Lost Boy -save for Felix and Peter- were dancing like the devil himself had ordered it; knowing their leader that assessment wasn't too far off. I tiptoed my way over, sticking to the dark cover of the trees to be safe.

"Hello... What's your name, sweetheart?" I asked softly, a small smile forming on my concerned face as I crouched down, sitting on my heel and balancing against my knee in front of him. He lifted his head slowly, as if forming a question in his mind. When his soft, baby blue eyes rimmed red from crying found mine I felt my breath leave me like I had been punched into a tree. Shock coated my features, and a rawness coursed through me brought on by the frozen bucket of watery emotions.

"Wake up, sissy. Don't you love me? Why are you letting him do this?" His small, not-even-five-years-old face was covered in scratches, blood, and tear stains. I felt tears of my own block my throat and burn my vision. His voice was laced with years of pain, and my voice choked out weakly.

"Y-you aren't re-eal. Y-You _can't _be." I shook my head, standing and backing away. My face was flushed, and a cold stone sat in my stomach, spreading through my bones till my veins were ice.

He stood like a puppet having its strings jerked upward, his face mocking my own. "Wake up, sissy. _Why are you letting him do this?_" He demanded, clenching his tiny fists. Torn, tears flowed like a waterfall of pain down my face. I knew what he meant, but I didn't. Swallowing the bile in my throat, I continued to back up away from the shadows, away from the anguish.

"I'm s-sorry, Luke. I c-couldn't s-save yo-ou..." My voice broke, and I stumbled backwards as the small, suffering child marched closer. His voice rose in pitch, tearing into my ears and shredding my brain. His fists clenched till his knuckles were white.

"_WHY ARE YOU LETTING HIM DO THIS?! HELP ME, SISSY! MAKE IT STOP! WAKE UP! WAKE UP!" _He chanted. A tormented scream ripped from my throat, and I covered my ears. I fell to my knees, begging for it to stop. Luke had died years ago. He had disappeared. Dad said he just vanished. _Dad said, _a voice taunted in my head. I was reduced to a shuddering heap, locking my fingers over my ears so I couldn't hear his icicle voice stabbing into my heart and mind. Bleeding sorrow, my eyes screwed shut, I screamed again, trying to drown out the ghost in front of me.

"Bree! _Bree_!" A voice yelled forcefully, prying my clammy hands away from my ears. Rough hands shook me, and I begged for them to kill me. I didn't deserve to live if I let Luke die. I had pushed his memory from my mind in my pain, my shock, never mentioning him or thinking of him to save myself from the onslaught of torture his loss brought. I cried and cried, begging them to end it. What kind of person forgets their family? How could I ignore Luke's and not Mother's?

"Make it stop!" I screamed again, demanding, locking my fists in the warm fabric of their shirt. My pain soaked the front of their tunic, and my shuddering body fell against theirs for support. Muscular arms scooped me up like a rucksack and carried my shaking form against their chest. A solitary thought became clear: they had made him go away. They had scared Luke away. I sobbed openly, resting my head in the crook of a familiar neck that smelled of blood, sweat, and forest.

"It's alright, Bree..." The person murmured, setting me on a bed and smoothing my raven hair. The sea in my eyes was leaking out to flood the world, it seemed. "What did you see? Tell me." They whispered soothingly, their lips lightly brushing the top of my hair, their hand rubbing circles in my back while I curled against them in their lap, praying that Luke hadn't followed us. Visions of his bloody ghost screaming at me made more sobs choke my throat, and I gasped for breath. I hiccuped for air, and the rawness of my throat ached. It was nothing compared to the grief weighing my heart. I took unsteady lungfuls of their soothing scent and listened to their heart beat, slowly recovering my grip on reality.

"I-it was Luke. He-he kept screami-ing at m-me. I couldn't make it stop. I let him g-get _hurt._" I confessed, pouring the anguish from my heart into their lap. If I had been in a right state of mind I would've noticed the sudden rigidness in their posture when I murmured my brother's name. The gasping subsided, but the tears continued their silent trek down my flushed face. I was in hysterics, and my mind numbed out almost any information. The only thing it could gather was that this person cared, that they would keep me safe, that I cared deeply for them. "You made it go away." I whimpered, my lip trembling as I leaned my head into the crook in their neck, shutting my eyes. Their rhythmic breathing bolstered my sanity, and I slowly regained some of my scattered, shredded mind. It's amazing how something so small and quick can make a person suddenly so hollow and dead.

"Why was he screaming at you?" They gently probed, rubbing my upper back comfortingly. I sniffled, small details starting to register, like the familiarity of the voice, the scent filling my nose, the strength behind the calm, and the color of the shirt that was tainted by my emotions.

"I didn't save him." I mewled, my lip trembling again. Careful, a calloused hand slipped under my chin, and lifted my empty-ocean-eyes to their rich, emerald forest ones. That is when my brain gathered itself. How was Peter Pan the one to comfort me, and hush me and rock me gently? How did he show this depth of emotion without ulterior motives?

"He isn't real, Trinket. Your mind was playing tricks on you. I'd suspect that Andrew wanted some revenge and gave you a drug. There are a plethora of hallucinatory plants on the island if you know where to look."

I shook my head meekly. "I haven't had anything since I woke up." My weak body leaned against his, ignoring the sudden compulsion to stand as far away as I could. I squeezed my eyes shut. "You saved me..." I pointed out, somewhat to myself. His sigh stirred the hair on top of my head and pushed me forward with his chest as he breathed deeply.

"I'll leave you to sleep. You've started to break, Trinket." He muttered, a hint of boredom in his voice. "I don't save people. I capture them." His voice was rough again, and I felt tears burn my eyes again. I had to remember he couldn't show care or love. He was a demon. A bloody demon, and he was slowly breaking my heart.

My still-trembling hand shot out as he left me on the cot. "Stay. _Please_." I begged, desperation leaking from my every pore. I couldn't be alone. Luke would come back, or I'd die in my sleep, but most of all, I couldn't stand it if _he _left. As much as I would have hated to admit it, I needed him, and I would fall to pieces the second he left. Something about his presence was both at once frightening and comforting, addicting and dangerous. I felt him stiffen, and his head slowly turned to face me. His eyes weren't cold like I had thought. They were a soft (almost sad), green, like the grass when rain weighs it to touch the ground. I thought he would shake me off and leave anyway as the proud King of Neverland.

"Just this once, Trinket. I don't stay by Lost Girls' bedsides when they fear the dark." He warned, loath for the situation lining his tone. He carefully lay beside me on the edge of the cot, and I nodded. I knew he was exaggerating his annoyance, that he didn't really want to leave (that he _had to_ or the Boys would be suspicious), and I felt grateful. He would put aside his pride for me, for one night. I kicked off my boots and hid my face against his chest, the tears beginning to dry as my face cooled. He softly whispered a lullaby, so faint I couldn't make out words but a rhythm. I began to drift into a more peaceful state, his low voice slipping into my mind and repairing the damage Luke had done that night.

"Thank you..." I whispered, blinking one last time before the soft wings of sleep cradled me in their embrace like an old friend. He lightly kissed my forehead in a loving gesture that I knew would disappear in the light of dawn, but I savored it while I could. If this was the last bit of kindness I would see from Peter, I wanted to remember him like this. The sweet, genteel side that existed only when I needed him most. He would be my undoing on this island, but he would be the greatest story my life had to tell.

* * *

**A/N: Editing this is literally **_**so**_ **freakin' **_**satisfying**_**, it's like outlining for artists.**

_**Old Outro:**_ **Wheeeee! Sorry if that was a little short, it's a school night. :P Can't believe the computer says "Neverland" isn't a word. We need to fix that. The song for this chapter (if you aren't willing to check my profile for the full playlist) is Cold by Aqualung and Lucy Schwartz. It's a haunting song that I recommend you give a listen, and I mean REALLY listen to it. I leave you with this cliffhanger-ish ending. What happens in the morning? Will Pan's act of kindness have a serious debt for Bree later? What the hell is happening to her mind? These are the little thought provoking Q's I leave you guys with! I love you all! Bluemoon, over and out~**


	6. Chapter 5: Cat and Mouse

**A/N: Oh, don't mind meee, just editing. ;) Just a little heads up, if the "Old Intro" is italicized and underlined that means I've updated recently/it's a part of the new round of editing. If it just says "Old Intro" it has been edited, but not recently or well. Explanation over XD .**

_**Old Intro:**_ **I don't have hours to type like I usually do, but I'm gonna give it a whirl! Some foul language here, so be prepared (Bree has a mouth on her). Enjoy lovelies!**

* * *

I woke slowly, worn ragged by the exhaustion of the sobbing fit from the previous night. A cold patch of the cot jogged my memory when my hand rested on it, pushing myself up on one elbow. Peter hadn't left me last night. He hadn't let Luke get me! I sat bolt upright, my eyes darting around the room for any sign of Neverland's King. I was back in the underground cavern from before, in the _stupid_ tree. My gaze traveled over the wood and the dirt floors for any sign of inhabitants. Cautious, I snuck across the room after pulling on my shoes, my feet barely skimming the ground.

Emerging from the roots of the _literal __**tree**_-_**house**_, I found that it was near dawn. The sun was beginning to peek over the horizon and lazily finger paint the sky in soft hues of pink and orange. Lost Boys had already begun to gather in front of the ashes of last night's fire, awaiting orders. I lingered in the back of the group, uneasily searching for Andrew in the crowd, so I would know the farthest I could be from him. "Everyone listen," Felix called, no preamble needed. A hush suffocated the barely whispering voices as everyone stood a little straighter. "We're going to be working on aim in the field today, and if you can't keep up don't ask for help." He deprecated cheerily, a smile stretching across his sun tapped, dirt-smudged face. I shuffled nervously, unsure if it was a threat at myself or a hidden warning. However, the grin on Felix's face was a stark contrast to his ominous words; it made my stomach churn in knots.

"Hey, Felix, where's Pan?" A tall, gangly boy with smooth cocoa skin asked, cocking his head. A murmur of curious agreement spread but was silenced before it had time to be taken seriously. The air was disturbed by Peter's sudden appearance.

"_Worried_, Blaze?" He sneered, narrowing his eyes at the teenager with contempt. No one dared make a peep as their leader stared down the fidgeting Boy. "I'll _always_ be close by. Don't forget your place." He ordered, his voice so cold I felt goosebumps raise on my arms. This couldn't be the same person who had spoken so softly last night that their words fell like feathers on my ears! Those fists clenched so tightly they appeared ivory at the knuckles -could those _truly _be the same hands that had held me so tenderly and soothed away my fears? His harsh voice jerked me out of my scrutiny. "Let's play!" With that, the feral Boy-King turned in one fluid motion and led the group at a smooth jog towards the training clearing. Cheers enveloped the woods as I kept pace with the gaggle of stolen children.

* * *

"Aim at the _target, _stupid." Andrew rolled his eyes, throwing his last dagger. I knew better than to point out that he'd missed twice out of five _and_ had more practice than I. He was just trying to get under my skin.

"Shut up," I muttered, grasping the edge of my third blade with inexperienced hands. "Find someone else to gloat at. At least I wasn't beat by a newcomer." I added, glancing at him with a smirk. The weapon flew from my hand and sunk into the second to best ring painted on the crude target. A small smile of satisfaction lit my face. As I bent to grab another from my set (more confident in myself this time) Andrew went to retrieve his. I squinted at the target, rocking back and forth slightly as I tried to loosen my shoulder. Before I even knew it was coming, a thin blade with no hilt came flying at me and embedded itself in my shoulder. I yelped, dropping the knife I held and grasping at the quickly reddening fabric. "What the hell, Andrew?" I snapped, wincing at the movement in my shoulders my increasing breath brought.

Boys looked over with curiosity from their posts in front of their targets, a frown creasing on Pan's face for a moment before he hid it. "I didn't do anything!" He yelled back with wide eyes, though I could see the sly smile hiding at the corners of his thin lips.

"You rotten liar!" I shouted back, glaring at him while applying pressure to the wound, not ready to yank the weapon out. "You threw it at me! You are such a child! Is this just because I beat you yesterday?" Irate, I accused, my nose wrinkling.

"_I'm _the child?" He snorted, sauntering closer like a lazy predator coming next to a caged meal. "_I _don't scream in my sleep and cry all the time. _I _don't need a babysitter to make sure I don't wonder off. _I _am not just a common street rat."

_Common street rat?_ I glared at him, fuming as my pale fingers grew slick with blood while I tried to carefully pull out the weapon blade without cutting myself further. "I _don't_ scream in my sleep." I mumbled, my anger giving way to apprehension as the once silver blade dropped to the ground at my feet, now tainted with dark red blood. Andrew grinned, knowing that he had something over my head.

"What was the name last night?" The sandy blonde mused. I began to wonder why Peter hadn't intervened yet and risked a glance to the side at his shadowy figure, leaning casually against a tree. Shock flitted across my face. Was he really just _watching_, like this was some kind of entertaining banter between intellectual minds?! Did this not qualify as important? When he noticed my panicked gaze, he arched an eyebrow as if sarcastically asking what I expected and returned to watching the others aim after shouting at them that they should be practicing. I was on my own. "Oh, yeah, _Luke._" Andrew's noxious voice grated out the sacred name.

"Don't you _dare._" I commanded, feeling rage boil in the pit of my stomach. Rage at pig-headed Andrew, rage at the seemingly bipolar Peter Pan and rage at my predicament. There was no escape from the island, and no clear escape from this argument with Andrew that wouldn't make me out to be cowardly. I couldn't afford to look any weaker; it could mean my death. Andrew grinned wider, and I felt tears pricking at the back of my eyes. He would never stop tormenting me. He'd make sure everyone knew just how broken I was, and then his leader would kill me for being a liability. As much as I wanted to leave Neverland, I didn't want to die. I refused to take the easy way out of this. "Don't fight me with words, fight me and prove you're better: if you c_an_." I growled, trying to push a sense of superiority into my tone. Any Lost Boy would jump at the prospect of a fight and chance to prove themself superior, I knew. All it took was a bit of provocation.

Andrew chuckled like he had been waiting for the invitation and charged the short distance between us, slamming me to the floor and pressing his thumb into the gash in my right shoulder. I cried out once, surprised, but rapidly pulled myself together and threw him off to the side with a heave, pain making me stronger. Before he could try again, I grabbed the blade off the floor and wished it had a hilt as I held it to his throat, the item nearly slipping from my fingers. "Clever, Bree. But not clever e_nough_." He taunted, throwing his elbow up and dislodging my loose grip on the slippery silver. Andrew pulled his knee up and slammed it into my stomach, making me roll off to one side, clutching at the surely bruising area with a grimace. His foot shot out, thrusting my head back with a sharp s_nap_. I flew onto my back, spitting a bit of dark blood onto the grassy clearing. "Come on, Bree. Fight back. _Win, __**if you can.**_" He spat my words back at me, holding his arms out in invitation. With a scowl, I swung my leg, sweeping his out from under him. I straddled his stomach and began throwing a frenzy of well aimed punches at his face.

Andrew tried to buck me off, but I had firmly planted one foot on the ground and my knee as well. With a passionate scowl, I continued to assault his face till I felt the split of my knuckles and a crack from his nose, a small part of me enjoying the give of his bones and the flow of blood beneath my fists. I heard his shouting in the back of mind, but it seemed trivial.

I don't know what kept me going -or what made me stop- but, eventually, when Andrew had gone limp under my hands, I stood. Blinking back tears, I dragged in deep breaths. "Don't e_ver _confront me again, or I'll give you more than a bloody nose you w_orthless prat_." Shaky, my fingers reached up to wipe his blood off my jaw with a sense of finality, smearing more of the sticky scarlet over my pale skin. Slow clapping made my sore neck whip around to face a smirking brunette.

He stepped from the shade of the large, gnarled tree into a swath of fading sunlight then back into the shadows in front of me. Small details caught in my vision. The curve at one side of his mouth, the raised arch to his brow, the always-vivid emerald of his eye. "I wondered how you'd handle that, and I've got to say, I'm not disappointed." He shook his head of slightly curly brown locks once, his eyes dancing with a hint of mischief. Peter's voice rose again so all in the clearing could hear him. "Boys, we've got a game to play!"

The sudden announcement gathered the attention of the some-odd twenty Lost Boys surrounding us, and they all shuffled closer. "We're going to play a round of Cat and Mouse," Peter's devilish smirk turned to me again. "Trinket here will be the Mouse, and all of you are Cats. The object of the game is to be the first to capture the Mouse, and return it to camp before midnight. Bree, since you've never played before I'll be generous and give you... ten seconds head start."

My mouth fell open slightly, disbelief written plainly across my exhausted features. "Are you in-" Peter's strong hand nearly crushed my jaw as he clasped my face in his calloused grip. The glare and lack of emotion on his face made me wish he was yelling at me instead of silently daring me to continue. He raised both brows with a taunting look till I dropped my disappointed, storm blue gaze to my scuffed tan boots.

"Learn to keep your mouth shut." He growled so quietly I thought he didn't mean for the others to hear. Wounded more than I cared to admit, I clenched my blood stained fists. "I'd get going, Trinket," He crooned loud enough for the Boys to hear. "You've only got nine seconds left." I swallowed uncomfortably and ran for the beaches, knowing that there had to be some kind of refuge there. Peter's voice echoed behind me as I tore through the jungle, my lungs begging for a break from the physical exploitation of today. "Eight... Seven... Six... Five..." He seemed to whisper in my ear, shoving me onward, urging me to go faster.

If he was acting like this, it had to be just that: _an act_. I had to cling to the belief that he hadn't decided I was worthless, that he wasn't using this game as a clever ploy to end me. "Four... Three..." I stumbled over a raised root and gasped, small sounds of panic escaping me as I twisted and pulled till my ankle came loose from the trap. I turned sharply, knowing that I was going in a circle. They would expect me to go as far away as possible, not as close. A small cave caught my darting gaze, and I narrowed my eyes briefly before staggering forward, a fierce twinging blossoming in my ankle. "Two... One. Ready or not, Trinket." His rough, predatory voice called through the trees. It echoed in my head and once again seemed to come from everywhere while having no visible source. I ducked under the overhang of lichen and scooted up to the familiar edge of the stone overhang. Water still lapped at the shore as if nothing had ever happened. I swallowed nervously, knowing I couldn't stay like a sitting duck. My hands scooped water from the cool pond with rapid movements till I had quenched my burning thirst.

Wiping my hands on my cargo pants, I snuck out the entrance -beginning my toiling trek through the woods. I had till midnight to survive, and the sun was just starting to take down his canvas of blue and yellow for the moon to set up his own of navy and purple and scatter it with glowing jewels. The stars gave me a sense of nostalgia. They were that glimmer of hope -that _promise- _that even though it seemed bleak, the sun would come out tomorrow; the sworn oath to guard you with the moon till the sun bathed the world in light again and dissipated fears under its calm watch.

A small scuffling to my right sent me skittering into the bushes, crouching low till the two Boys came into view, each carrying a lantern with him. Frustrated at their unfair advantage, I narrowed my eyes. A cold breeze stirred my hair when they left, and I glanced up in worry. _Shadow! That damned thing, I forgot about him! _I howled in my mind, my eyes wide with fear. If he was helping the would surely find me before midnight! He seemed to grin in agreeance with my thoughts, and flew off in search of Boys to alert.

I lurched to my feet unsteadily and took off in nearly the same direction as the Boys, but veering more to the left. I wanted to see the crashing waves of the shore one more time before Peter killed me. The aching need to see the crystal sands and cerulean waves made my pace fast and my steps sure. There may be a day Peter caught me -when a Lost Boy dragged me to my death- but it was not this day. I would survive this child's play and prove I was a force to be reckoned with.

* * *

I fell to my knees, curling my fingers in the still warm sediment that lined the water's edge for a good twenty feet towards the trees. This gave my weary feet a much deserved rest as the beach had been _much _further than I had initially anticipated. I stretch forward till my stomach was pressed against the glistening sand, and rolled onto my back to admire the stars sparkling above me. There weren't any constellations I recognized, and it made a wave of homesickness crash over me. "Pausing in the middle of a game, Trinket?" Peter's smirking voice drawled, as if he was waiting for me to notice him for a while now. I scrambled backwards, fear nearly paralyzing me.

"Just kill me and get it over with." I growled, my pained shoulder making me wince at the sharp movement. Betrayal flashed in my tired eyes. "What use am I now, anyways? Apparently I'm too frail for such a place as your island." I spat, my fingers curling in the sand.

"Kill you?" He arched an eyebrow, coming closer while I stumbled back a step on the uneven ground. His smirk grew. "Now, where's your sense of adventure? I can't end the party when the _real _fun is just about to begin. Come on, Boys!" He shouted, raising a hand into the air to call them out of the shadows like a pack of trained mutts. "Tie her up, and then bring her back to camp." Peter ordered, winking out of existence like a dying star.

Two boys came forward with rope -one of them I recognized as Blaze. "Sorry, Girl." He whispered while he knotted the scratchy rope around my wrists as gently as he could, bringing me to my feet. The other was unfamiliar, but he had sleek black hair that hung in his baby blue eyes. The walk to camp was surprisingly short, making me question how much of the island Pan could influence. Upon orders fed through from leader to lieutenant (and finally to the Boys), they positioned me in the center of the clearing with my wrists bound behind my back, on my knees. "Good luck, Girl." Blaze gave me a small, sorry glance as he retreated to stand with the Boys in the wide circle surrounding Peter, Felix and I.

"You lost the game, Trinket." Peter pointed out unnecessarily, his mocking smirk and arched eyebrow making this all the more worse. "And the losing side always has to pay on Neverland."

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**A/N: CLIFFHANGER! Yes, I know, I'm evil. I love you all, and thank you so much for your continued support on this! Bluemoon, over and out~**


	7. Chapter 6: Punishment and Past

**A/N: Editing, sighing, and wishing the story could magically become as perfect as I thought it was originally. Maybe Tink can sneak me some pixie dust? **

_**Old Intro**_**: And the madness continues! I'm on Spring break, and I still have a really bad case of writer's block. I've **_**never **_**had it this bad before. Nonetheless, I am going to update because all you lovely people deserve it! I've gotten tons of follows and favorites, and it just makes me so so happy every time my phone dings to say a new person has! Thank you, guys, for your continued support, it means a lot. Off to Neverland!**

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"I didn't _lose_," I growled, glaring at him. "You cheated." A murmur of distress and disbelief went up in the circle, but it was quickly silenced when his mouth formed a smirk.

"Don't you know? Cheaters never win, but Peter Pan never fails." He crouched down in front of me, arching his eyebrow. "I'm rather tired of waiting for you to catch on to the rules, Trinket. My kindness isn't free, and it's high time you paid for what you've taken." He stood up in one smooth motion, walking in a slow circle around me as he spoke to the Lost Boys. I swallowed nervously, forcing my expression into a blank mask. I had known this was coming, hadn't I? Adrenaline pounded through my veins, blurring sounds as I struggled to think of a way out. I knew I would get hurt -that much was obvious. This had to be some kind of twisted test. Peter had a reason behind everything he did, and this was no different. If I could unravel the enigma, I could survive to surprise him. I could survive to escape home.

"Trinket, on your feet." The ruthless Boy-King ordered, grabbing my upper arm as he forcefully dragged me to stand. I tried not to wince at the pressure and steadied myself carefully, slowing my breathing to an even, relaxed pace. He drew out his dagger with a sharp noise, and I blew out a breath, counting to five for each inhale and exhale, forcing a calm demeanor. "Let's see how long you can last, shall we?" He motioned the pale boy with the black hair forward, and I didn't realize what Peter meant before the Lost Boy's fist collided with my jaw.

My head snapped to the side, but I planted my feet, not allowing my body to stagger backwards. So, he wanted to see how high my tolerance for pain was? Fine. I could still win. The game wasn't over yet, and Peter knew it. He was taunting me with his power as if to say 'I have an entire island to do my bidding. You should give up'. I raised my chin defiantly, licking my lips apprehensively. The Boy struck out again, face hiding regret, but I leaned out of the way, making him stumble.

From the edge of the circle, Felix nodded and another Boy came forward. _This isn't fair!_ I wanted to scream, but I knew it would only make the situation worse. Sometimes your greatest weapon can be your silence. They stood in front of me, advancing as I took uneasy steps backwards. The newer attacker lunged at me, making me fall against the circle of Boys. I was shoved forward roughly, and a blade went into my shoulder, breaking open the wound from earlier. I yelled out in pain, clenching my teeth. I was already tired from hours of training, running and sparring. A soft bout of laughing went around, then bets were flying across the clearing. One of them held me still while the other slammed their fist into my gut. I forced down the yelps of pain till they retreated and a new Lost Boy came into the rotation, my vision spotting.

* * *

I pulled myself to my feet, pushing up off my hands that I had managed to get in front of me. I tasted blood from a split in my lip, and my head felt fuzzy from all the blows I'd taken. There was no way tell how long it had been, but every Lost Boy had thrown at least one punch, and I had returned about half of them. Without my hands I had to use my feet and shoulders to fight, however, it was a lot harder than I had thought.

"Stop." Peter's ennuied voice finally echoed before another blow hit my shoulder. A lot of the Boys had used knives or spears to inflict their damage after I used the rope to my advantage and twisted their wrists in between my own. Needless to say, plenty of them had bruises and hurt knees. I sighed as a wave of relief crashed over me. I swayed on my feet, no longer having the proper motivation to stay upright. I collapsed to the side, my cheek pressed to the cool dirt of the clearing. I shut my broken eyes to the world and let my ears paint the picture.

"You lasted longer than I suspected, Trinket. Congratulations on living another day." Peter whispered. I heard him stand, then speak so everyone could hear. "Take this as a lesson. Anyone who doesn't follow the rules of Neverland will get what's coming to them! Felix, start the fire." I remained where I was as movement began all around me. Pain had blossomed freshly in my chest, and a single solitary tear of crystalline fell to mix with the rich dirt.

_He must have enjoyed watching me suffer for so long. He probably got bored._ I thought weakly, knowing that could have been the only reason he ended his 'game'. After I felt the heat of the bonfire drift across the clearing to greet me, hands grabbed mine. Alarmed, my eyes flew open, and I jerked away. It was Peter, narrowing his eyes at me as if I was the strangest thing he had ever seen.

"What the hell do you want?" I panted, unable to help the quiver of fear in my voice at the twinge in my chest. I must have been developing some odd sort of palpitation that was brought on by his presence. He arched an eyebrow.

"Do you want to have use of your hands again or not?" He gestured to the knot with a nod. I heard the whooping and smattering of bamboo that meant the Boys had gone into their trance again, leaving us alone in this corner of camp. A quick glance proved his flute was tucked into his belt, untouched. Slowly, I squirmed into a sitting position and held my arms out. Peter nodded once then took out his blade. I jumped, thinking he would stab me, but he rolled his eyes and began sawing on the binds with the care someone takes in cutting a child loose from their self-made entrapment. The rope fell to the ground in between us: a twisted metaphor. No matter what, his cruelty would always separate what we could have been. Before he could begin to speak, I startled him with my question.

"How many?" Peter frowned, an indent showing between his eyebrows.

"What?" The bridge of his nose wrinkled slightly in his confusion. I couldn't help the sliver of satisfaction I felt at catching him off guard.

"_How many_?" I glanced up from fiddling with my hands, caught in the intensity of his gaze. He was a book I couldn't ever read. So closed off was his expression that I could almost swear he had spent years perfecting it. A sigh of annoyance escaped his parted lips.

"Yes, I heard you. I meant 'how many _what_'?" I rubbed circles around my index finger with my thumb while I tried to force the words out.

"How many girls have died here? How many have you killed?" I glanced up again, afraid of what I would see. I was taken aback by the open loss on his face. He had been hoping I wouldn't ask, but now that I had Peter's expression was full of suppressed pain.

"Not as many as you would think..." He finally answered. I bit my lip, my elbows rested on my knees. The silence was uncomfortable, but neither of us wanted to break it. Just sitting there was better than knowing the truth. If he told me, would I think him a monster?

"How many did you care for?" I whispered, watching his face with rapt attention. A flash of anger lit his eyes as he glared at me. I had gone too far and woken up the proud King of Neverland who hid under Peter's exterior.

"What makes you think I cared for any of them? What makes you think I care for _you_?" Peter growled, coming to his feet. I swallowed nervously as he stalked back towards the fire. It was a pride of red, orange and yellow lions, roaring to the skies from within the circle of stones. I inhaled sharply, stabbing my fingers through my hair. He had made his way beside the bonfire, putting his flute to his lips and testing it before playing. It took me a moment to realize why I was confused, then it hit me like the first punch.

I could hear the music.

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**A/N: I know this is a lot shorter than what I usually write, and I'm sorry, but next time will be a lot longer. Thank you guys for taking the time to read this, any reviews are super appreciated. Bluemoon, over and out~**


	8. Chapter 7: 'What Do You Want From Me'

**A/N: * taps desk * Editing is a pain in the butt.**

_**Old Intro:**_ **I'm alive! I can not say sorry enough. My Wifi got cut a month before I moved, and then it took me almost another month after I moved to get everything sorted out. I'm SUPER psyched to be writing again though! I'll try to update more frequently now that my life has slowed down a bit and everything isn't as crazy. I found some new songs that I think will work great on the Soundtrack I'm posting on my Profile for this story, so if you guys want, go check it out!**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own OUAT, Neverland, or Pan/The Lost Boys. I only own Bree, Luke, and whatever randomness transpires!**

* * *

Quivering like a plucked string on a harp, I pushed myself unsteadily to my feet. The song was melodic and flowed through me. The ache in my chest was stronger than any I'd ever felt, but the song began to weave around the wound and fill it with its magic. I nodded my head slowly, familiarizing with the song before I succumbed to the urge to join the jumping throng of Lost Boys.

A ghostly image of Luke played at the corner of my vision, tears streaking his dirty face. "Sissy, save me. Don't let him win! _Sissy!_" His voice fell on deaf ears.

"You aren't _real_." I growled, striding closer to the blaze. Heat warmed my skin, but a cold emptiness had rested in my chest where the pain was fighting it. I knew that this was wrong, but I had to escape the excruciating ache in my chest. The island played tricks on you, and so, just for tonight, I would join in with the song to forget. _God_, how I needed to forget.

"_Sissy_, **stop**." Luke pleaded, appearing in front of me like the flickering smoke off a candle. I paused, allowing myself a long draw of the intoxicating hope that stood in the form of my precious baby brother. "Help me, Sissy. Help me! I don't _like_ it here!" A fresh batch of tears sparkled in his sapphire eyes. "I wanna go _home." _His lip trembled and he reached for me.

I jumped back from the frigid breeze as his hand passed through my arm. With eyes the size of saucers, I shook my head. "**No.** _I'm awake!_" I recalled the giggling, gleeful voice in my head from the last time this phantom had found me. _Dad said Luke vanished..._ With a brisk shake of my head I skirted the crying child and threw myself into the crowd. Peter had said a very powerful magic was latched onto me; perhaps this was the magic acting up? The song he played dazzled like the stars, and I spun, kicking up dirt.

I glanced at the spot where my little brother had stood, his tiny fists clenched in frustration he didn't know how to properly voice. Luke had once again vanished. I sighed deeply in relief and shut my eyes. The pounding bamboo provided a heady tempo as I smiled slightly. I had beat the island. I hadn't fallen apart again.

* * *

A hint of satisfaction at my returning strength helped fill the thumping wound in my heart. I bounced on the toes of my boots and spun again. This was better than anything I had experienced on Neverland yet. I couldn't remember why my chest hurt, or who I had been about to cry over. A full smile graced my lips for the first time in a long time. The fire lit the edges of my ebony hair and cast strange shadows over my pale face. I definitely wasn't the person I had been the night I arrived, but I wanted to believe that I was somehow better -or at the very least better-off.

There were no responsibilities on Neverland, and my father couldn't hurt me here. The only one I had to worry about was Peter. I mulled over the new situation. Something didn't feel right. I shouldn't want to be here! I had been _kidnapped! _I almost stopped dancing at that, but decided it might raise suspicion. Twirling sharply on my foot, I clapped once as the Boys around me banged their bamboo sticks. Peter's eyes closed contentedly as he continued to blow notes through his pipe, and I listened intently.

A hint of anger mingled with pain in the music, making me curious. The song continued, sounding slightly different than the second before. I furrowed my brow, opening my blue eyes -the same as the small boy's had been, strangely- and found an arm wrapped around my waist. My chin raised as I readied a sharp, sarcastic response to the bold Lost Boy. Emerald eyes met my own, and a mocking smirk covered soft-looking lips. The words died on my tongue, replaced by a lazy grin. "Enjoying yourself, I see. Talking to our self again, are we, Trinket?"

I blinked quickly to fire my brain back into working order. A spark like that of an angry summer storm shot up my spine. "It- it's a lovely song. Very... moving." I pondered what he meant by talking to myself. I had been dancing, hadn't I? I couldn't remember doing much else tonight but dancing!

"It is a lovely piece, isn't it?" Peter murmured, his gaze drinking me in. With a slow movement he took my hand and spun me away then back against his chest. I placed a hand against his soft, dark green tunic-shirt to steady myself from the unexpected movement, and felt a small smile on my face. "Who did you see, Trinket? Who were you arguing with?" Peter demanded, the intensity of his gaze making me nervous.

"What do you mean? I was dancing. Isn't that what I was doing?" I furrowed my brow, angry with the confusing swirl of nothing in my head. The song still played, though the pan flute was tucked back into Peter's belt. _Magic. _My chaotic mind supplied. "What's wrong with me..?" I whispered, pulling away from him slightly as I studied the ground with a frown as if it might tell me. Firm fingers hooked under my jaw, and Peter's annoyed expression met my panicked one.

"Don't lie to me, Trinket. Who did you see over there?" A growl filled his voice, and his fingers held my arm now, uncomfortably tight. I tried to yank my sore arm away. Why was I covered in cuts and bruises?! His fingers brushed a particularly sore spot on my shoulder, causing me to cry out at the sudden ache. The hurt was enough to scatter the fog filling my mind. I _hadn't_ been dancing all night. I had been running. I had been fighting, and crying and slowly forgetting because the music said to. It all hit me with crippling force, and my knees buckled.

I took heavy breaths as I dug my already dirty nails into the earth I had been standing on. My back arched with the severity of my gasping. The Boys continued their dance, oblivious to Peter and I just a few feet away. Nothing could disturb them when they were like this. Fear shot through me as Peter knelt beside my shaking form. His burning green gaze scanned my face for signs of a lie and found none. "You. _You did this._" I choked, my stinging eyes glaring at him accusingly. A slight frown covered his mouth as he arched an eyebrow, not moved in the slightest by my words.

"Who was it?" He urged, clearly losing his patience. I shook my head once, a small scoff pushing from my throat. I shoved his hand away from my shoulder, lurching to my feet. My head spun with the flood of anguish. "Trinket-" He started to warn me.

"**No," **I snarled, hatred replacing the placid happiness the music had brought. I could still hear it, but I forced my feet to remain firmly planted as I faced off the scowling King Of Neverland. "It was _you. You took Luke away from me._" I accused, my voice colder than the winters from my village. A look of recognition flickered across Peter's face, however, he craftily hid it the second it came.

"I haven't the faintest clue what you're rambling on about." Peter insisted calmly.

Infuriated, I narrowed my eyes to dangerous slits. "You killed my baby brother." I clenched my fists, using up all of my self control to keep from launching a good right hook at his jaw. I wanted to wipe the smirk from his face so badly it became a physical yearning.

"Ah, so _that's_ what all your fuss has been about." He chuckled cruelly. "_That's_ why I was drawn to you. Family resemblance to the child I found. He was so helpless, wasn't he? After your mother, Breana, died, he ran away out of fear of your father. You stopped looking after a while thanks to some work on my part, and I thought I might just have myself the perfect Lost Boy. I could have groomed him to be the strongest of my Boys..." Peter trailed off teasingly, offering further information if I was compliant.

I watched him with barely controlled fury, wanting to make him suffer as Luke had. He had no right to say my mother's name. Peter deserved the wrath of Satan for even _looking _at my innocent baby brother. "I'll _kill _you, you bastard." I hissed, venom pouring off my words in rivulets.

Peter arched an eyebrow. "Oh, I understand you're upset, but I don't think you'll do a _thing _to stop me. After all, it is _your _fault he came here." I froze, the air leaving me as surely as if Peter had punched me in the gut himself.

"What..?" I breathed, unable to comprehend what he was saying, yet knowing perfectly well what he meant.

Peter chuckled softly, glad he had regained my unflinching attention. "You were the one who didn't protect him after your mother died. He loved you so wholeheartedly that he cried for an entire _month_ after I brought him here." A shadow crossed Peter's face for a moment. "I never meant for him to die, Trinket. He was a very special boy."

"No. You're lying." I shook my head, tears pricking my eyes again. "I-I didn- _No._ _No!_" I shouted at him, stumbling backwards. My fingers stabbed into my hair as I clutched my head. Had I really been the reason Luke died here? The reason he came to this dreadful place at all? "You're lying!" I turned tail and ran, and this time, Peter let me.

I tore through the trees like the first night I had arrived on Neverland. In no time at all, I came upon the small, hidden alcove I had fallen asleep in all those days ago. How long had it been? A day? A week? I frowned, kicking a tree in frustration as a fierce growl tore from my mouth. Pain laced up through my entire being, and I remembered the forced fight I had been in. Weak, I splashed some of the water on my face, trying to calm the churning mass of emotions in me. I had to think straight, but every time I gathered my thoughts they were of Luke.

I knew that the ghost was just my head messing with me. Luke was too young to be stuck here. He would've gone to whatever afterlife there was with my mother. He'd be happy there. The thought of revenge played in the back of my mind, but the thought of killing Peter made my stomach churn. The pain in my chest had come when I thought of being just a source of entertainment for him. He had been by my bedside those few days I had been unconscious, hadn't he? Did that mean _anything _to him at all? It sure as hell meant a lot to me! Besides, it wasn't _really_ Peter's fault. It was my _father's_. Peter had just tried to take Luke under his wing...

I rubbed my flushed face, frustrated beyond belief, and huffed in annoyance. Nothing would ever be simple, would it?! The voice I had been dreading carried to me from a few feet away as I pushed my hair back out of my eyes. "Countless." Peter murmured, watching me with a vexed expression. Something feral hid behind his emerald eyes.

"What?" I croaked, clearing my throat uncomfortably. Why couldn't he just leave me alone? The overwhelming pain had become a dull throb from my every pore, and my head seemed to be waging war against my heart with every second I was in his presence. I needed time to think. I needed room to breath without another painful reminder of my predicament.

Peter sighed as if second-guessing himself. I knew it was impossible for Peter to not trust his gut (as he never thought he was wrong), but he seemed to be doing just that, then and there. "Countless. Too many stolen girls to count over the ages... I never cared about any of them." He clarified with a slight growl. His brow was furrowed as he looked at me, waiting for judgement without a hint of remorse.

Nervous, I swallowed and tucked a loose bit of hair behind my ear. I wanted to ask 'why', or 'what for' but none of the words seemed willing to come from my mouth. I took a deep breath, studying him. I was familiar with his face, but there was something different about it now. I realized with a small bout of joy that I could read his expression. He wasn't wearing the carefully constructed mask of indifference and boredom. "Is this the part where I say it doesn't matter?" I asked, a slight smile at the corners of my mouth.

Peter narrowed his eyes slightly. "Bloodied, beaten, emotionally scarred, and losing your mental sanity, yet you want to say _it's fine that I've killed thousands_?" He shook his head and exhaled, nice and long. "You're more complex than I though, Trinket..." He chuckled quietly, swinging his head from side to side like an animal.

"I have a name." I scowled, a bone-deep tiredness filling me. I leaned my head against the tree's large trunk, watching him carefully. His jaw was clenched in slight frustration, and his eyes were filled with a look I couldn't place as he stared at me. "I was named after my mother... Bree Nicole DeLune..." It felt like he was trying to sear my image in his brain, and I shifted uneasily. A minuscule laugh of annoyance sparked from my lips. "I'm not one of your thousand 'Trinkets'..." I glanced up at him, watching as his expression crack as he snickered.

"You aren't one of a thousand, love. You're the only one I've named that." Peter readjusted the way he was leaning against the gnarled tree trunk, a smirk playing on his lips. It was my turn to look confused, and I looked up at him. His eyes were a darker green than usual -it might have been a trick of the light- and the near-constant night sky made his cheekbones and jawline stand out more prominently. His hair was a mussed set of gorgeous dark brown waves. I wondered if he looked more like his mother, like I did. Peter arched an eyebrow. "What are you staring at, Trinket?"

I blushed slightly, averting my gaze to the now extremely interesting roots of the tree beside mine. "A tree...?" I tried, my voice raising slightly in question. Peter rolled his eyes and stood straight, making my gaze snap back to him in worry. I scrambled to my feet, my hands gripping the tree behind me. Peter's face clouded with confusion that I couldn't figure out before he realized I was afraid. He halted once he stood directly in front of me, only a few measly inches between us. His breath was sweet and stirred my hair as he sighed in frustration.

"When you first came here, to my island, you asked me something..." Peter mumbled, wrapping a small section of my raven hair around a finger. I tried to remember what the question had been, and the first thing to come to mind had been a burst of outrage. "And again, you asked me something a few days later. At the time I hadn't the faintest idea how to answer you... I still do not..."

I squirmed under his gaze, fidgeting with my shirt-hem. "Which question?" I inquired, my voice soft. "I seem to ask you quite a lot."

Peter smirked, letting the curl fall from his grasp. "You asked me what I wanted from you..." His thoughtful gaze dropped from my eyes to my lips and the faint happiness in them was mixed with longing. I licked my slightly chapped lips nervously, causing his to look back up. With a suddenness I hadn't anticipated, he took a step closer, and I stumbled into the tree trunk in surprise, my nails gouging the bark.

Anxious, my heart raced, my ears straining to hear everything he was saying in the deathly silent forest. "And, d-do you know the answer?" I probed, trying to distract him from his intense studying of my face. Peter looked down thoughtfully, then carefully placed a hand on either side of my head, boxing me in. Near-petrified by his close proximity, I began to shiver uncontrollably. Peter looked at me as someone who has lost their dearest love would, as if I was a ghost haunting him.

"I can't tell you for certain, Breeana..." He whispered, his lips brushing my ear and sending lightning through me. My lips parted slightly in shock. Peter had just said my _real _name_, _my _**full **_name. Not Trinket, not Lost Girl, not even _Bree_, but _Breeana. _With an achingly slow pace, Peter drew back just enough to see my face. My heart was on the verge of thudding so hard it would burst from my chest. "But, I know it has something to do with you never leaving me..."

I felt the pain in my heart from earlier begin to fade with uncertainty. Was Peter admitting to having feelings for me?! "S-so," I cleared my throat impatiently. "You're saying you... want me to... stay...?" The fried mechanics of my brain refused to work properly.

Peter chuckled softly, his hand sliding to the back of my neck. "I'm saying I'm never letting you out of my _sight." _I started to respond, saying he had told me so before, but his lips brushed against mine feather-soft. Dumbstruck, I turned to stone in his arms while I waited for my heart to beat again. It skipped then picked up to an alarming rate. Like an addict to drugs, I pressed my lips against his, wrapping my arms around his neck. Everything in me screamed that this was wrong, that this Boy had tried to kill me more than once, and that he was a demon hell-bent on making me suffer. However, my heart was pounding too loud for me to hear my better reason.

Peter leaned back, startled, then returned the kiss with deeper passion. He held me close; his free arm wrapped around my slim waist. I pulled away slightly, shaking as I gasped for air. "Wh- what was that for?" Perplexed, I blinked repeatedly.

Peter chuckled, pressing his mouth to my temple gently. "I could ask you the same thing."

* * *

**A/N: WOOOHHOOOO! Are you excited? I'm excited! In case anyone's wondering, the song is for this chapter is How You Remind Me by Avril Lavigne. Thank you everyone so so SO much for your support, and all the favorites, and follows I have gotten! Again, I'm SUPER sorry that it took so long to update, and I really truly love you all. You are the reason I am still writing this story. Any questions or thoughts? Just send me a review or PM! Love you all, Bluemoon, over and out~**


	9. Chapter 8: Alex, And The Art Of Hiding

**A/N: Please review and tell me if you guys appreciate/like/don't care about the new edits. I want this story to be at its very best, so I'm **_**begging**_ **for some constructive criticism here.**

_**Old Intro**_**: Aaaaand I'm back! Didja guys miss me? ;)A little Bree/Felix interaction here (despite what it looks like I love Pan **_**and**_ **I love Felix, but Bree doesn't). Chapter Eight, Lovelies!**

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With a much-needed, deep breath I glanced at Peter from the corner of my eye; my heavy inhale caused him to glare at me sharply as if silently informing me that it annoyed him. He had wandered off a few minutes ago -claimed he was getting something for my wounds. After a brief warning of further violence lest I go traipsing off again, he disappeared as if the wind had swallowed him. Peter had returned in what was most likely a minute -though it felt like a lot more- and began dabbing a poultice on my shoulder. I frowned at the large tear in my blouse, wishing I had a spare with me.

There had been a tense, deafening silence since his return. I rested my elbows on my knees, sitting cross-legged while Peter took turns looking at me and the surrounding area. Neither of us had spoken a word, content to bask in the frustrating spirals of our own thoughts. I had no grasp of time as it slid through my fingers on its way past us. Neither Peter nor myself wanted to be the first to break the silence, so we stayed like that: me sitting and staring out at the beach through the trees, him sitting on a fallen tree and watching everything like a fascinated cat. It would have been perfect if it hadn't ended as abruptly as it did.

* * *

Peter's gaze sharply rose to the sky. His head tilted, listening for something I couldn't. "We have to return to camp -_now_." I scrambled to my feet, dusting off my pants. Questions poised on the tip of my tongue, wanting to jump like a waterfall to fill the space between us. Peter silenced them all before they could start with a cold glare. I dropped my sea-storm eyes to the forest floor, shifting my weight nervously. "It'll take too long to walk..." He sighed, shaking his head once. I furrowed my brows but kept my lips sealed; if he wanted to elaborate he would, otherwise I'd only put myself in more danger by urging his ire. Without a second's warning, Peter snaked his arm around my waist, pulling my back tight against him. "Close your eyes. I'd rather you not vomit when we reach camp." He advised dryly, all previous emotions locked back in his heart. I admit, I was a exceedingly disappointed that this was what I had to face every time we weren't alone.

* * *

I felt the air tighten till it was a noose around my lungs, then blessed oxygen was forced in quick enough to shred the ropes. I staggered as I realized Peter had not held me steady as he had each time before, bracing my hands on my knees with my eyes shut tight whilst fighting the nausea. It took a few long, full inhales to reassure my lungs there was air and my stomach there was no need to vomit. Someone cleared their throat to my right impatiently, causing me to arch an eyebrow at them sassily. "Can I help you?" I grumbled, blinking hard.

The boy with black hair that flickered in his baby blue eyes clutched a bow in one hand and a long dagger in the other. Wordlessly, he held the weapon out -hilt first- for me to take. I slowly wrapped my fingers around the leather grip, cautious, and nodded. "Thank you...? What's this for?"

"I'm sure you know what a sword is, Bree." A sarcastic voice chuckled from behind me. Turning my back on the silent Lost Boy, I crossed my arms and scowled. Felix. I wanted to slap the smug grin off of his face so badly I thought the fiery hatred would burn me up from the inside. "Unless your mother didn't teach y-" My fist connected with his jaw before the word was finished. A burst of satisfaction followed the soreness quickly covering my knuckles. I grimaced inwardly, shaking my hand out.

"Don't insult my mother _ever _if you want your vile features to remain intact." I growled at him, flicking my wavy bangs out of my face as he glared down at me. Felix had a good six inches on my petite frame, meaning he had yet another fighting advantage. Shaking his head, Felix grinned again, relaxed, a spark in his dark, grey-blue eyes.

"There's the girl who came to the island!" The lanky blonde chuckled, "I'd hoped you hadn't faded _that _quick."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I snapped, clenching my fist at my side, preparing for another swing -this time with the sword. "I'm not weak if that's what you're insinuating! I _will _find my way home. I _will _escape." Felix's eyebrows rose slightly at my outburst, but he shook his head once more before swinging his large, frightening club onto a shoulder and walking off. Shoving the blade through my belt as a makeshift scabbard, I rolled my eyes. Neverland's inhabitants were all off their heads! Completely bonkers!

"Pan has ordered that you remain in his hut." A cold voice informed me, drawing my attention to the pale, black-haired Lost Boy again. I frowned at the order despite not wanting to upset the nearly-shaking Boy. He couldn't have been much older than myself, with a sorrowful, haunted look in his eyes. Everything about the poor thing said he didn't want to be near me: his slightly slouched posture, the ever so careful way he bent his neck to look at the ground beneath his feet, the darting way his eyes refused to meet anything for too long.

"I want to know what's going on." I countered lightly, a worried furrow to my brows. "Can you tell me?" His eyes narrowed and he shook his head.

"Pan said to guide you safely to his hut. None of us are to tell you anything." He answered quickly, stumbling over 'his' and making me question if this was the whole truth. There was a faint purse to his lips as he clenched his jaw.

"Then why give me a sword if I am to hide?" I raised the razor-sharp item slightly, making him blink hard to hold back a flinch. I sighed, "At least let me know what to call you. I can't very well forever think of you as 'the pale, black-haired Lost Boy with blue eyes', can I?" A small smile graced my lips as I tried to meet his jittery gaze to no avail.

"Alexander; Alex." He mumbled, popping the knuckle of his pointer finger absently. An opaque silver ring twisted around the finger like it had been pulled and bent into a short, loose spiral; the Latin world '_dilexit'_ carved into the metal with precision only a master craftsman could possess. "Just, please, come. I don't want to anger him." The faintest of a highland accent misted his chilled voice along with the plea.

Pressing my lips together to hold back any more worrying questions I nodded, waving my hand. "Lead the way then, Alex." He dipped his head once, quickly weaving through the mass of Lost Boys running frantically about the camp. I caught fragments of the babble as the skinny boy slipped through the throng: 'ship', 'Roger', 'cannon fire'; 'beach'. I wanted to stay and find out what all the fuss was about, but I wasn't going to risk getting the kicked-puppy of a boy in front of me hurt because of my curiosity.

* * *

"Why do I have to stay in here again?" I mumbled, glancing at the ladder nervously. Alexander had led me on a sporadic path through the woods a little ways from camp. I couldn't get back even if I wanted to.

"Pan said they couldn't find you; the safest place is here and his Thinking Tree." Alex responded quickly, his knuckles bone-white around the molded handle of his thick, maple-wood bow. "Stay inside and latch the trapdoor. Put something heavy over it." He advised, turning to leave as quickly as he came.

"Wait," I grabbed his forearm lightly, causing him to nearly jump out of his skin. His eyes were so wide they could pass for saucers in his face. I immediately dropped my hand, holding it up in surrender. "I just wanted to thank you. You're very brave, Alex." The pale boy took an unsteady breath, nodding in acknowledgement before jogging into the trees with the bow at his side, quiver over his shoulders. It must've been my imagination, but I saw him smiling in a way reminiscent of his leader after a trick well-played as he darted off.

It took a lot of self-motivation before I could clamp one hand around a rung and start climbing the simple wood ladder. The door seemed stuck; I ended up having to somehow throw my shoulder against it to finally make the infernal contraption pop open slightly above my head. The floor was like any other in my village: wooden planks worn smooth from centuries of feet. A flickering lantern sat beside a piece of unused parchment and a quill on a small nightstand with a single drawer that stood resolute beside a metal bed with a soft white blanket, a few pillows and a curling headboard. This _couldn't _be Peter's hut. He didn't fancy sleeping from what I had heard, and even so, this bed looked rather... well, _feminine. _It was meticulously neat, even behind the paper room divider where a basin of water, a beveled mirror and a small window resided. I sat on the edge of the bed for a short while as I got my bearings, noticing a _very _heavy, tightly locked chest at the foot of the bed. Like almost everything else in the tree-hut, it was made of solid wood save for the tarnished lock. I ran my fingers over the keyhole as if that would make it open as shouting and the thundering boom of cannons reached my ears. In a panic I gripped the edge of the large chest and tugged it away from the wall made of woven branches enough to crouch between the two pieces and push with all my might on the chest, my shoulders braced against the wall and bedpost while my hands were planted on either side of my hips to keep me grounded. With a heavy _skisssh_ it covered the square door in the floor near the wall. I breathed a sigh of relief, rolling my sore shoulder tenderly.

* * *

Seconds turned to minutes, turned to hours. Time bled into one long blur while I paced the length of the hut. At some point I must have lain on the bed, because I awoke to loud banging coming from under my feet. A sharp gasp of fear was pulled from me as I drew my knees to my chest. Whoever the Lost Boys had gone after were here. The cannon-shooters... _The pirates._ They had a ship... Was this my chance to leave the island? Or would they kill me just as Peter eventually would? Which was better? A quick, bloody death by strangers (or possible imprisonment), or a slow, continuous death-like prison on Neverland? I never got the chance to find out, because moments later the chest moved by itself, flying into the wall so forcefully I thought it would break. The door clattered, stuck, as I jumped to my feet, clumsily yanking the sword from my belt. I darted behind the room divider, crouching behind the branch-wall. Closing my eyes, I tried to silence my pounding heart and ragged breathing.

After a sharp bang signaled the door hitting the wall, shuffling came from the other room. Silence followed, making me hold my breath as the intruder calmly took one deep inhale after the other. "Trinket." A firm voice demanded, making my eyes snap open. "Bree, come out. I know you're here." The sword hit the floor with an echoing clatter, eliciting movement from the other room. Seconds later, Peter's shadowy silhouette appeared making a short gasp of both fear and relief come from my trembling lips. His brows were furrowed in concentration, confusion. I didn't realize I had thrown my arms around him till it was too late, till I felt the tense anger in his shoulders.

"I'm sorry, I just- I thought that- There was- I-I mean..." I struggled for words as he lifted my arms over his head coldly, no expression on his face. "What's going on? Who's on the island? I heard cannons, an-and screaming, and-"

"We have to go. Now." Peter cut me off in a monotone, encircling my wrist with his firm grip. He waited at the bottom of the ladder, a hand on the small of my back till I stood beside him. "Put this on. Don't take the hood down." Peter ordered, his words clipped as I pulled the cloak on quickly while trying to keep pace with him. A cautious sniff told me that this wasn't just any Lost Boy's cloak. It was Peter's own, made of a dark brown, soft animal hide. He paused long enough to dart a glance left and right before pulling me with him. "This way, I have to get you to the Moon Caves."

"The what?" I asked between breaths, running to keep even with his easy, long-legged lope.

"Moon Caves. Near Mermaid Lagoon. They wouldn't dare go near it. Hurry up."

"Pirates?" I clarified, stumbling in the dark and foreign terrain. I'd never been to this part of the island before.

"Hook." He growled, never releasing his firm hold on my wrist in the weak light of the waning moon.

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**A/N: Did you like it? Any questions, comments, concerns? Okay, then... Anyone excited? Like REALLY excited? Is it finally picking up? Is Bree tough and sarcastic enough like in the beginning? Pleeeeaaase review! I noticed the Lost Girl seemed a bit soft, so this chapter was mostly a filler and her regaining some of her RAWR-ness. I hope you enjoyed! Bluemoon, over and out~**


	10. Chapter 9: Just A Rock

**A/N: Tick, tock, tick, tock… * twiddles thumbs * Good? Bad? Don't care? Please review, I'll force Felix to bake cookies and wear a frilly apron for you guys!**

_**Old Intro:**_ **This has got to be the quickest I've ever updated... I feel really awful about not continuing **_**IDA**_**, but it was unavoidable. Here's Chapter Nine for you beautiful people. ;)**

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"_Hook_?" I echoed, confused. I trailed just slightly behind him as he darted through the thick foliage.

"Killian Jones." He muttered, hoping to clarify. We broke from the trees and into a dead sprint for a strange set of eerily lit caves across the sand. My feet sank with each step, and I struggled to keep up. The toe of my boot caught on a rock and sent me sprawling in the fine-grit, almost-white powder and dropped the hood. With an impatient growl, Peter yanked me to my feet. I wouldn't snap about how it hurt my arm because there was a heavy cloud of tension in the air, and I knew he wouldn't tolerate my 'insubordination' with Neverland at war. Something told me that anyone near Peter was in danger at this point and time. "Come on, Trinket. Honestly, it's like you've never ran for your life before." A hint of amusement hid behind the condescending tone as we started again.

Within a few minutes I was being tucked behind a large boulder up a close-to-the-wall slope that overlooked a large pool fed from the ocean. A large chink in the ceiling let moonlight wash the water in a hazy silver color. Peter shoved the sword I had dropped into my hands (god knows where he got it, as I didn't recall seeing him pick it up). "Stay here. Don't make a sound."

"You _are_ staying, too, aren't you?" I demanded, my eyes wide. Peter shook his head once, amused with my child-like concern.

"Bad form for the King to hide during battle. It's _cowardice_, and I will not give Killian that to dangle over my head. Now," He lightly smoothed the top of my hair, his hand trailing down my face to cup my chin. "Keep that pretty little head of yours down and don't move. Pirates will be the least of your worries if they find you." Smirking, he studied my face for a moment before disappearing. I shivered at the sudden cold breeze in the air and the ominous hint in his words. My face felt on fire where his skin had touched, but I rubbed it coarsely, trying to dilute the feeling.

_Why can't I fight? I've proven I'm capable! Why does he insist on tucking me away?! What doe she mean 'least of my worries'? Is he planning on throwing me to mermaids if I wander away? _I grumbled to myself, crossing my arms and resting them over top of my knees. I leaned my head against the rock wall. The floor was smoothed from countless footsteps, and a thin layer of sand made it a surprisingly-comfortable resting place. Despite the strange poultice Peter had given me, I was still sore all over. The wounds had closed magically, but that couldn't take away the pain entirely. I rolled my neck to try and remove the crick in it to no avail.

* * *

At some point I felt my eyes slip shut, promising myself a small nap. I stayed in that cramped position for another few hours till the sound of whispering bouncing off the cave walls roused me. I peered in a gap between the boulder hiding me and the one to my back, my gaze darting over the area till I saw a pair of tall silhouettes near the entrance.

"Are you certain he wouldn't hide her here, lad?" A celtic man's voice rumbled. A glint of silver obscured his hand from view.

"She's in his hut. Alexander was taking her there when _you_ blew our cover." A young voice growled in annoyance. My eyes caught a long stave with a sharp tip and sandy hair. Andrew? Was he a _traitor?! _I had thought Peter would have been too vigilant for something like that to escape notice, but the proof was right in front of me. I slowly drew a quiet breath, closing my eyes to hear better.

"It was one of my men." The adult barked, a hint of anger in his voice. "If you want off the island _and_ that girl taken care of, learn your place, lad. Remember who's in charge here."

"Excuse me, _Captain._" Andrew sneered as their voices faded away.

* * *

I resorted to pinching my arm every time sleep came close, not wanting another close call. I had a bruise steadily growing when Peter suddenly appeared in front of me after the cannons ended. I hadn't heard much of anything for a good while, so I supposed the fighting had drawn to a close. "Time to go, Trinket. On your feet." I took Peter's outstretched hand, blinking my eyes to remove some of the fuzzy sleep clouding my thoughts.

"Andrew was here. He had a man with him." I yawned, unsure where the sharp wave of dizziness and disorientation came from. A sense of security surrounded me the longer Peter held my hands.

"_Andrew?" _He growled, narrowing his eyes. "What did this man look like?"

"I-I couldn't tell," I shook my head. "He was t-taller than you... Shorter than Felix..." I mumbled, pressing the heel of my palm to my eye. "Sounded funny... He had silver on his han-nd..." The world was going dark, rippling faintly -a lake at midnight on a moonless night round the edges of my vision. My grip went slack on his hand, letting gravity start pulling me down. If Peter hadn't caught me my head would have split open on the boulder that had provided my sanctuary. What I didn't see was the faint smirk around his lips, the glint of energy in his eyes when I mentioned a silver hand.

With a soft exhale he scooped me up -one arm under my knees and the other under my shoulders. "You need to rest. I've forgotten how quickly little dolls like you tire..." I wanted to yell that I wasn't little, for one, and for another that I wasn't tired. Something definitely didn't feel right. I shouldn't be collapsing like this. After all, I had slept a lot today -more than any other day I was conscious on Neverland. All that came out was a low _humph_ from the back of my throat as I struggled to wiggle out of his cradling arms. Peter's mouth twitched at the corners while he carefully adjusted his hold, so I could lean on his shoulder easier. "Just go to sleep, Trinket. You _have_ had a very trying twenty-four hours."

I wanted to shout at him for thinking this was funny. I wanted to cry because something was seriously the matter with me. I wanted to kill whoever kept making this happen. Most of all, I wanted to lean into the crook of his neck and sleep off the painful throbbing in the back of my head, the blood pounding in my ears. _Maybe if I just take a nap... Peter said I need to sleep... He'd know if this was magic-induced, right? _I reasoned in my mind. For the third time in a short while I let my eyes slip shut. For a long while I just let him carry me as I wavered in and out of consciousness; hazy, I focused on his steady breath and smooth strides. It was quiet in the forest, so for a moment, I pretended that Peter wasn't some evil, vindictive demon that relished in my pain. I pretended that we were back home in my village with its lovely, rolling green hills and castles in the distance. I pretended for a moment that Peter actually cared for me, and it was one of the happiest pretends I had ever had.

Of course... You always have to wake up.

* * *

Shouting from outside was accompanied by loud cheering and stomping. I rubbed my eyes to remove what my mother had called 'sleepies' from the corners. Peter had carried me the entire way to the tree that I had woken up in what felt like months ago (in reality it couldn't have been more than a week or so). I pushed the blanket off impatiently, my blood humming with adrenaline at the commotion overhead. My feet pounded the twisted, cramped stairs as I reached the upper level. The small table was still there, accompanied by the chairs, and a new lantern rested atop the oiled surface. A small rectangle of parchment was folded in half and tucked under the base. I frowned, crossing the tiny room in a few paces and plucking it off the table. Neat, black ink scrawled over a good part of the creamy parchment. My index finger hooked around the handle of the lantern, dragging it closer.

_**Trinket,**_

_**Your brief information concerning Andrew was most helpful. I trust you enjoyed your little cat nap? If you're reading this it means the spell finally wore off, so come up, but for the sake of my sanity put on the shirt I left you. The one you are wearing presently is rather ragged. I'd hate to have anymore of my Boys breaking rules today, and we wouldn't want that blood on your hands, would we? You will be attending the bonfire tonight with everyone else as usual. I expect a good performance from Andrew, so be silent and don't let on that you know anything of what I say. Act as surprised as the others and he shall be too angered at being found out to notice you. Be prepared for a show. Neverland has not seen a spectacle as this in some time now.**_

_**Pan**_

Bewildered, I ran my fingers over the looping way he wrote his capital 'P' and the soft roll of his 'n', the fluid way my nickname looked. It reminded me of home with all of its majesty and swirling letters. Living just outside the well known kingdoms of King Leopold and King Henry, I often spent time in the hills and woods, enjoying a short word with travelers concerning their adventures. One that I saw most introduced himself as 'Will'. His stories were what interested me the most -other than his strangely thick accent. He spoke of Merry Men, blue caterpillars, Red Queens, and how girls whose names had an 'a' always complicated things. Being he only knew me as DeLune this wasn't insulting. He always seemed to be so full of mirth and stories.

My gaze fell to a lump of dark green fabric with golden stitching, pulled to the present. I tossed my own tattered peasant blouse on the chair, tugging the identical-in-style shirt over my brown tank top. It fit surprisingly well (better than my own), making me wonder how Peter obtained such measurements. Shaking my head, intrigued once more, I stuffed the letter in my pocket. The noise had escalated to a dull roar. The door swung open at my slightest touch, revealing the source of the ruckus.

It appeared that all the Boys on the island had gathered in the clearing around the embers of their burnt out fire. I had yet to see them all assembled at once; it was a striking number of no less than thirty-five. The youngest looked to be six or seven with the oldest being Peter and Felix at approximately eighteen. Blaze and Alexander were among the closest to Peter's age. Andrew's hands were bound in front of him, his hair stuck up in tufts, and he bore a long bloody cut along his bare forearm courtesy of the red tipped blade in Peter's hand. I was hit once more by the ferocity in his emerald eyes, the wolfish aspect to his smirk.

Every Boy was shouting at their former comrade's weakened stature. Insults, threats, names, rocks. Everything they had at their disposal was hurled at Andrew hard enough to leave abrasions on skin and break bone. A rogue stone skittered past Andrew's shoulder and nearly clipped Peter. His long fingers ensnared the item before I could blink; he began rolling the smooth piece in his hand like a toy, like a trinket. Peter tossed it into the air once as Andrew continued to absorb the assault of his former brethren before tossing it to me casually. Instinctive, my hand shot up to clasp the projectile before I had anymore bruises.

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**A/N: **

_**Old Outro:**_ **I had so much inspiration for this chapter. I've been working on it for a couple days, deleting, rewriting, etc. Here it is! Next chapter should be coming out soon as I'm almost on summer break! Thank you so so so much to everyone that has favorited and followed this story. Also, a big big thank you to EverRose808, Shinigamidemidragonslayer99, selenastarsparrow1230, Izora Calla Rahl, BW-H-IM-CA-H-T, animeluver1827, and angelx420x2000 for adding me to their author's list! It makes me unbelievably happy that you guys enjoy my writing enough to do this. It means more than I can say. I love all my lovely readers; you guys are wonderful! Bluemoon, over and out~**


	11. Chapter 10: Rain and Screaming

**A/N: Yay for editing mile-markers? This may or may not have been heavily influenced by a Bellarke scene in **_**The 100**_**. I OWN NOTHING BUT MY OC'S AND THE RANDOMNESS TRANSPIRING. Chapter Ten ladies and gents.**

* * *

It fit in the dip of my palm easily, warmed from Peter's hand and my own. There was nothing extraordinary about it; it was just a rock, gray with tiny speckles of blue and tan, smooth, slightly oval-shaped. I tossed it up lightly, trying to understand why Peter hadn't just dodged it and moved on. It was a plain old rock -plucked from the beach I'd supposed. As it flipped to land back in my palm I noticed a slight crevice around one rounded corner. Eager, I rubbed my finger over it repeatedly. A small bit that was chipping flaked off, revealing a sparkling inside of shimmering crystals. I gasped, glancing over at Peter. Did he know what this was?

A faint nod told me he had known very well about the geode. I grinned like a child, my fingers rolling it as if it would bring good fortunes. That was when I decided to keep the rock with me from then on, like a charm. Peter's voice drew my attention again, my head lifting from the small token.

"It has come to my attention that there are snakes, so to speak, in our 'garden'. Neverland will not tolerate betrayal, no matter how small. Andrew here," Peter clapped him on the shoulder, making the younger Boy flinch. "Is in cohorts with the pirates and one _Killian Jones_." A chorus of shouts went up even louder than before, pricking my ears at the volume and rage behind them. These were only young, stolen Boys who had the wrath of the Queen's entire army!

"Kill him!" A vicious snarl came from Blaze beside me. I inched away from the previously sweet Boy, a cold shiver of fear drawing its finger down my spine at the crazed look in his eyes.

"Gut him!" "String him up!" "Feed 'im to the mermaids!" Called more unfamiliar voices.

I wanted to cover my ears and run. There was so much boiling abhorance against someone who only minutes ago had been their friend and ally! Felix was smirking quietly to himself, slightly behind Andrew and beside Peter. The lanky Boy's head was bent as if he was staring at something shorter than him.

Peter raised the blood lined knife for silence; it fell like a heavy woolen blanket to suffocate the voices. "It is time to hear what the traitorous miscreant has to say for himself..." Peter's voice rang loudly so even the Boys in the far back of the drove could hear as clearly as if he was next to them. He dropped his arm as well as voice, turning to stand in front of Andrew.

The sandy-haired boy raised his chin, shaking as he met his leader's cold eyes. After a moment he caved, dropping his sea green gaze to the slash on his arm. "What is there to say?" His dry voice questioned, breaking slightly as if he hadn't drank anything in days.

"For starters, why did you align with the Captain?" Felix growled despite the smile on his face. I could easily tell something had happened between Felix and Killian, but I hadn't the foggiest _what. _Peter's gaze flicked to his deputy, silently reprimanding him for speaking out of turn without much interest in his could-be-annoyed gaze.

Andrew glared at Felix with disgust. "I had my reasons. I had my 'motivation'," He glanced at Peter then me. "If this pathetic whelp can survive because she says so, why can't I leave for the same reason?" He challenged. A loud, consecutive gasp erupted from the group.

A small voice behind me leaned forward. "_Leave_ Neverland?!" A hint of disbelief colored his tone. Apparently escape was frowned upon in Lost Boy society.

"Yeah, that's right, Freddie. Leave. _**Escape.**_" Andrew clarified, narrowing his eyes at Felix. Peter's narrowed to match, making him look both striking and deadly. A small thing wrapped his arms around my waist, his dark brown hair fluffy and slightly swept to one side. His pale blue eyes were brimming with unshed sapphire droplets. With a small sniffle he tucked his head against the curve of my side, prompting me to wrap an arm around him awkwardly. I hadn't been very maternal since Luke, but old habits died hard.

If I was being generous he was only eight years of age -and a scrawny little thing, too. His eyes were the size of saucers as he watched the spectacle unfolding. I rubbed his back comfortingly, not daring to break the silence flooding the clearing. "And you assumed Killian could supply your passage off the island?" Peter smirked, gesturing to Andrew scornfully. His face was condescending. He arched an eyebrow at Andrew with a dead face.

"He has a way. He promised me." Andrew looked panicked, his eyes widening. "He-he said we could use the boat an-"

"Your real problem is that there is _no_ escaping Neverland." Peter's face twisted into a cruel smirk; his voice was suddenly low and menacing as he growled with clenched teeth. "No one gets off this island without _my _permission."

Beads of sweat began to form on the Lost Boy's forehead as Peter tilted his own. For a few racing heartbeats Andrew looked at a loss for words before he realized how deep of a hole he had dug himself. "I'm sorry." He whispered, the words blurring into one faint noise.

Peter's brow furrowed faintly, a smirk playing at his lips. "What was that, Andrew?" He crossed his arms, calm as a lazy river. "Speak up so the other Boys can hear you." It was a cold, clear-cut demand. Peter's voice rang with authority and smooth confidence.

_The calm before the storm..._ I thought to myself, glancing at the small, shaking child beside me. The wind picked up, stirring my raven hair around my shoulders. Swallowing thickly, apprehensive, I clenched a fist. This was where Peter showed his true colors, where the King of Neverland shined: torment.

"I-I'm sorry." Andrew's voice cracked, his fingers trembled, his already pale face turned ashen. Andrew wet his lips, staring imploringly at the demon facing him. Felix shook his head, a thick smile cracking his face. Everything was one big laugh to him, even another Boy at Death's door.

A soft murmur rose up from the crowd. It was loud enough that I dared to whisper to the skin-and-bones child. "I'm Bree DeLune." I pasted a small, encouraging smile on, showing I was harmless. He stared up at me with tear-laden eyes. "What's your name?" I prompted softly.

"F-Freddie Davies." His youthful voice quivered. Straight from the get-go you could tell he wasn't cut out to be a Lost Boy. Freddie's arms were barely thicker than the grip of Alexander's hunting bow, his face gaunt and angular and his breathing raspy. "H-have you seen J-jack? Or George?" Freddie's voice rose with hope. I pressed my lips together, shaking my head apologetically once before Peter's tranquil demeanor snapped.

With a sneer Peter delivered the words Andrew had been clearly dreading. "Lost Boys never apologize," Andrew gulped, biting the inside of his cheek. Felix balanced his club over back of his shoulders lazily, grinning in anticipation. Every eye was trained on the smirking leader as he turned, watching the rabble. My eyes were wide, silently begging Peter to not kill my enemy. With an amused glance, Peter drew his dagger in a flash of moonlight, pointing at Andrew's throat.

Peter arched an eyebrow at me, questioning, taunting. I shook my head once, my lips just barely moving to form a negative. He raised his brows as if asking what gave me the right or reason to make this demand. I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to keep his level stare. Behind me the Boys became impatient, the noise mounting to a painful clamor of shouts and calls. With a shake of his head and a wicked grin, he sheathed the blade, grabbing me roughly by the arm and dragging me up to Andrew, away from the quivering child. "Tell him what you told me, Trinket. What happened?"

Nervous, I swallowed, shaking my head. Peter's grip tightened and even more shouting erupted from the Lost Boys as I froze, glaring at him. "Tell him, love, or we'll be having another game." I felt a tremor pass through me as I stared at Felix, the tree, the ground -anything but Andrew and Peter. Taking a deep breath I shook my head. Peter dug his nails in deeper to my arm, making me wince.

"I was hiding in the caves." I forced out, not meeting his eyes. "I heard you and Hook talking... About me... About leaving the island." Andrew's face twisted into a look of fury and hate. Peter remained distant and cold beside me, a mask of faint interest on his angelic demon's face.

"I knew it. Of course it was _you_." He snarled, narrowing his eyes. "Just because you don't wanna leave doesn't mean that the rest of us have to stay."

"I didn't mean t-" I began, shaking my head desperately. Peter sensed I was heading toward an apology and tightened his grip even more, drawing blood.

"No. You just wanted to be in Pan's good graces, didn't you?" He snapped, piquing Peter's interest slightly. "Guess what, Bree. You're gonna _die_ here. _Just _like the rest of em." I felt my breathing hitch in my throat at the ominous (yet likely) prediction. I pressed my lips together, shaking my head mutely. Tears pricked the backs of my eyes as Peter pushed me towards Felix (who caught me easily), his grip less possessive than Peter's yet just as unyielding. "_You're __**dead**_ _Lost Girl!_" Andrew shouted as Peter threw him into the thicket of shouting Boys. A scream ripped from my throat as they began pummeling him.

I rammed my elbow backwards into Felix's gut, eliciting a sharp yelp of surprise as he released me. I ran at Peter, shoving his back. The noise was deafening as the clouds above rumbled with Peter's anger. "Stop!" I demanded, making him turn to me while still watching Andrew's defenseless attempts to stay standing. The rope around his wrists was tied painfully tight, and the Lost Boys were ruthless. I saw the flash of a blade as Andrew leaped to the side to avoid the blows. They shoved him against the crude knives and fists, and one thought rang in my mind: _No one deserves to die like that._

"For what, Trinket? He's broken the rules, he has to pay." Peter growled, staring at the scene with cold, almost-black, emerald eyes.

"He doesn't have to die." I pleaded, unsure why this mattered so much -even after all the things Andrew had done to me. "Look, you can do something. You can be a fair and just leader. _Or,_" I continued as he gave me a bored stare. "You can continue on being a ruthless, heartless, empty-shell-of-a-person that all of these boys fear." My throat hurt from having to practically scream over the noise all around us. For once I meant _boys,_ as to say young men, not Lost **Boys**.

"And why would I do that?" Peter scoffed, smirking. "I _like _the way things are. Andrew knew what the consequences could be when he took Killian's side in this." I took a deep, quivering breath to steady my anger. "There's no reason for me to change things just because of you."

My fists clenched tightly. A sharp noise pierced the air, making me flinch. Andrew had been stabbed. Peter had turned back to the fight like it was a good fencing match. I couldn't help the fury flaring in me, the despair. Rain spattered the ground, making it shift and slide under my boots. I grabbed Peter's arm boldly, yelling as loud as I could over the cacophony surrounding us. "_You _can stop this!"

Peter shrugged off my hand violently. "This is on you, Trinket!" He responded sharply, losing his cool. "If you cared so badly you should have kept your mouth shut! All things have consequences, and you know that as well as the rest of them!" I grabbed his arm again, holding on tighter than before as rain streaked my face, dragging at my clothes and hair.

"This isn't right! He doesn't deserve to die for wanting to go home!" I countered, ignoring the comment he made. How could he say it was my fault? I had been half-asleep thanks to his spell! I didn't know he would murder Andrew!

A tiny voice in my head said I knew very well that Peter was unstable, that he was deadly and violent.

"Are you saying you _pity_ him?" Peter mocked, arching a brow as rainwater ran off his lips and chin, falling onto his cheeks from his long lashes. In that moment he looked like the most gorgeous angel heaven had ever seen, and in that moment I wished I could believe it. Neverland ran on imagination and belief, didn't it? Was I fueling the island in some twisted way by believing Peter would change?

My breath clouded in the air, mingling with the heady scent of Peter's own. "Yes," I choked, my voice barely audible. "Yes, I pity him." I felt my breath shuddering in my lungs as the cold seeped through my clothes and became bone-deep upon Peter's expression.

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**A/N: Please, please, **_**please**_ **review? With a batch of brownies from Bree on top?**

_**Old Outro:**_ **So... yeah. I don't know what this even is. This ending, I mean. I'm being spirited away by the bestest friend in the universe and Seven Kingdoms and Narnia and... Okay, enough of that. I hope you guys liked it! Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and followed and added this to your favorites! Bluemoon, over and out~**


	12. Chapter 11: The Panther and The Dogs

**A/N: There is currently **_**fifty-six **_**favorites and **_**seventy**_ **follows for this story -as of the day I'm editing, March 31st, 2016. I'm hoping that by sprucing up this story more people will become interested, but that might just be wishful thinking XD . **

_**Old Intro:**_ **There are currently 20 favorites and 30 Alerts for this story! I'm super excited and I can't thank you guys enough! It makes me smile every time I get a notification for this story. I'm really eager to crank out the next few chapters, because I did some thinking (since I've had massive sleep issues for a few days) and there is definitely some good stuff in store! Onto Chapter 11~**

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A loud crack of thunder shook the sky and rumbled in my chest as lightning turned the sky bright for a few seconds. Peter's eyes were darker than I'd seen them since I'd accused him of being the one who watched me whilst I was unconscious. A low chuckle slipped through his lips as the storm lit his face. His emerald-black eyes were narrowed slightly, his lips twisted in a cruel smirk. I shivered under the deluge, taking in deep gulps of air to steel my nerves. Peter seemed to mull this over, finding my declaration both hilarious and idiotic. "You feel _sorry_ for him?" He prodded, arching a brow.

Pursing my lips, I watched the clouding of our breath. "No one should die like that." I side-stepped the question, not wanting to seal my fate quite yet. "Like I would have..." I latched onto the sudden idea, urging it to grow and my courage along with it. My eyes locked with Peter's, a determined set to them. "If you hadn't stopped it. _You _made that choice. You chose to save me. So, save him," I nodded over my shoulder to Andrew who had gone under for a moment, battered severely by his former brethren. Peter's face took on an annoyed, uninterested expression as he glowered at me. If I had already crossed the line I decided I might as well go all the way into the fire his glare promised to be my end. "Please. Please, Peter, I'm _begging _you. Lock him up or banish him, but don't kill him in cold blood. I know you're better than this." I murmured fervently, biting the inside of my lip, apprehensive.

Peter gave a short, callous, bark of laughter. "What makes you so sure, Trinket? I've killed people before, why is this any different?" He grinned, a feral show of teeth, as he shook his head at me.

"Because-" I struggled for words, blinking rainwater out of my eyes, grasping at straws in my argument. "Because you know him. He was loyal to you!" I attempted to stare up at him as intensely as he was peering down at me, but the downpour was ruining any ground I had to stand on by making me look like a drowning alley cat.

"_Was," _Peter hissed, pouncing on my mistake. "Exactly, Trinket. You've proven my point."

"Just- _please! _This isn't right! Let this go!" I entreated, holding tight to his hand like a child afraid to get lost in a crowd. I gave it a small squeeze, my breath heaving in my chest from shouting so much.

Peter paused, yanking his hand away like my touch scorched him.

A furrow formed in his brows as he slowly pondered over my request. "Nothing comes without a price, Trinket..." He noted, cocking his head at me. I was shocked. Peter -_of all people_\- was offering me a way out of my half-formed agreement.

Brashly, I nodded, my fingers quivering. "I'll pay it if you save him." I responded quickly so I didn't have time to consider his generous offer or come to my senses. Why I couldn't just be selfish and be glad I was down an enemy is beyond me. It would've been a horrible thing to do, of course; I suppose I wasn't far enough gone from who I had been yet.

Peter took a deep breath, nodding once as he began pushing through the circle that had enveloped Andrew. Lost Boys parted, stumbling out of their leader's way hurriedly. Confusion, reeled in anger, bone-deep loyalty -all of this flashed over the Boys' faces. Without a word, Peter dragged Andrew to his feet by the back of his cloak, hauling him to sit beside the ashes of the fire. A curious silence followed as Peter kneeled in front of him, smirking and whispering softly. I strained my ears to catch the conversation, cautious, as I edged closer.

"I don't want her help." Andrew seethed, blood trickling into his eye from a gash on his forehead. He blinked it away without a second thought, already too accustomed to the bloodshed on Neverland.

"But she gave it. You were ready to have Killian _murder_ her -quite gruesomely I recall-, and she was still willing to risk her life for yours." Peter murmured thoughtfully.

"Bleeding heart's what she is." Andrew spat it as if it was the worst thing to be -considering the twisted way Neverland was run, that was probably true. "Why didn't you just kill me when you found out?" Andrew insisted weakly, leaning on the sitting-log entirely, his venom leaving him to be replaced by fear.

A grin flashed over Peter's face. "Well, because I ne-" A voice behind me broke my concentration, their hand wrenching my arm back. I yelped in surprise, a burst of pain shooting across my back and shoulder. This was the same arm that had been impaled by a Lost Boy _and_ Andrew once before.

"Didn't your mommy tell you it was _rude _to eavesdrop?" Felix crooned, smiling wickedly. I ripped my hand away from him, curling my lip in disgust. As much as Felix seemed to drop helpful hints, he was a brute -and an emotionless one. (I know now that I shouldn't have been so hateful towards him for being loyal, but he reminded me too much of someone I chose to forget.)

"Didn't yours teach you not to grab at a lady?" I swiped my hand on my soaked cargoes as if to remove his touch, pelted by the downpour. My hair had become odd clumps, stringing around my face messily.

Felix shook his head, shrugging one brawny shoulder, my harsh tone having no effect on his demeanor whatsoever. "You aren't exactly a proper lady, Bree..." Felix deadpanned, giving me a squinting glance. After a moment of consideration, he peered up at the rolling, inky sky. "You know, Bree, it hasn't rained here in centuries. Not since the first toy of Pan's cried her first tears." I forced my face to remain neutral. It wouldn't do to have Felix clued into how revolted I was by his best friend's history of kidnap and torture, how scared I was to become another knot in the rope. Felix grinned at me, making the scar across the right side of his face and the bridge of his nose stand out. "You must be special. Any magic in your family, Bree?"

I frowned slightly, my throat sore from hollering at Peter. I shook my head slowly, mentally sorting through what I knew of my family. I furrowed my brow in concentration, trying to recall _anything_ about my relatives. I knew I _must_ of had more than my immediate family; I couldn't conjure up a name or face that was anything but Luke, Mother and Father. But surely Mother had told me stories...? Had I just _assumed _there was more of them somewhere? My frown deepened, causing Felix to laugh brightly. I stared at the ground as if there might be something there, searching while it dawned on me that I knew _nothing _of _anyone_ in my family outside of my immediate kin.

Felix shrugged again, his somehow-pleasant laugh rippling through the hushed campsite. "Just something to think on while you wait." He commented, sounding utterly chipper; it made my head spin. _Was there_ magic in my blood? Was that the reason the island had affected me so strongly upon my arrival? I bit my lip, perturbed, when a sudden screech of pain resounded behind me. Whirling on my heel, I stared at the scene before me, hoping the scrawny child from earlier couldn't see.

Peter had quite literally torn Andrew's heart out of his chest. It was pulsing in Peter's hand, a slightly dark shade of pinkish-red. It looked like glass to me, unreal, yet as Peter squeezed it Andrew let out a loud gasp of agony. The boy's words echoed in my head. _Bleeding heart_... With a malevolent smirk, the heart disappeared. Andrew fought to catch his breath only moments before Peter lit the fire with a wave of his hand, stalking towards Felix and I. With a small nod in my direction, Felix retreated to sit on his rock beside the flames, twisting his club in the dirt across the sea of orange and red from the spectacle. Without a seconds notice, Peter was drawing me to stand over the trembling teenager.

I glanced at Peter questioningly as he took a hold of my hand from behind, his breath stirring the hair near my ear. I swallowed thickly, my back tense. I badly wanted to wriggle out of the way, but Peter's grip was iron clad as he set my hand on Andrew's back, curling my fingers. A cold like none other stretched across my arm; not even the storm could rival it. Andrew let out a bloodcurdling yowl of pain as Peter quickly dragged me away, keeping my fist clenched tight around the shadow. A loud _thump _echoed about the clearing as his body fell to the ground. My breath caught in my throat as Peter slowly unfurled my hand, his voice whispering in my ear, as smooth as the stone he had tossed. "Everything has a price." Shadow darted down from the sky, scooping up the Andrew-shaped blob of see-through darkness and fleeing into the sky to hide till his master called once more.

That was the first time I had killed, and it had been caused by my own stupidity. Unable to help the tears that began to trail down my face, mingling with the precipitation, I felt the beginnings of a sob wrack my body. My palm muffled my mouth as incoherent words of grief tumbled out, words of anguish, words of utter hate. Peter brushed my damp, ebony hair away from my neck, taking a deep inhale of the scent I had accumulated over the near two weeks I had been on the island: clean sweat, the rusty tang of blood, the rich greens of the forest, and the softly churned fragrance of the dirt mingling with the delicate scent of the beach. I flinched against my own will; his arm lazily held me still from one side. His nose brushed along my neck as he lifted his head enough to graze the shell of my ear with his lips. "Shame that. Tink will be so ruffled that she missed a good show." A small whimper fell from my mouth as I stared at Andrew's limp form through blurry eyes. Softly, a short chuckle tickled my face and filled my nose with his wild, mixed scent of bamboo, blood, dirt, and a sort of toxic yet sweet, floral scent. "There is no escaping Neverland." He repeated, smirking in my ear.

Abruptly, he unwound his arm from my shaking form, gesturing for a few Lost Boys to take away Andrew's body flippantly. I dropped to my knees, digging my nails into the slightly muddy dirt surrounding me. Heavy sobs tore through me as I released all of my pent up fears; a rough scream shredded my voice as I rocked back and forth slowly. The sky stayed pitch-black even as the storm slowly began to recede. I felt more frigid than I thought possible. My entire being was encased in ice and it bled into my bones and core.

It was my fault... Peter was right. I was the reason Andrew was dead...

* * *

It wasn't long before Alexander wander over, tilting his head as he stared at me. His quiet voice startled me out of my swirling thoughts. "Are you just going to sit there in the mud all night?" When I shrugged, remaining silent, he tried another tactic. "Are you going to let Pan hold this over your head?" My gaze traveled to his face, hollow.

"I can't beat him, Alex. I can't win." Contempt for myself filled my voice. I was going to die here just as Andrew prophesied. I tried to imagine it: winning. What did it mean? Going home? Or staying alive? Did it mean killing Peter? I wasn't sure anymore, because no matter what he had done, some wretched part of me couldn't hate Peter Pan. Some part of me didn't want to leave the island and grow up. I _hated_ that side of my soul with a burning passion.

"He's just going to keep torturing you till you don't surprise him anymore, you know. Till he gets bored." With venom I did not think he had, Alexander leaned closer. "He'll tear your heart out and rip off your shadow, just like he did to my sister." Giving me one last sweeping stare, he mumbled. "I didn't think you'd give up like the rest did. 'Suppose I was wrong." I pushed myself to my feet, stumbling to catch up on my numb legs.

"I'm trying the best I can!" I snapped, surprised at how weak I sounded, even to my own ears.

"_Are you_?" Alex countered, whipping around in a flurry of his cloak. "Are you trying to stay alive, Bree, or did you give up the second you started begging?" I felt the hurt on my face as soon as he spoke. "Yeah, I heard you. You think there's something good in him, but there isn't. He's just like Tinkerbell. All he cares about is his stupid games." Alexander's voice shook as he darted off into the woods, leaving me to stare at the spot where he went through the underbrush with wide eyes.

Propelled into thought by his declaration, I slumped down on a log by the fire. There was minimal damage to my pants from the dirt, surprisingly, just a few splotches that needed drying and maybe a run-over with water. My hands were splattered with dirt, underneath my nails black from the sediment. Mechanically, I plucked a stick off the ground, using it to clean out the mess while I tossed around the questions in my head.

What game did Peter and this Tinkerbell play that involved killing people? Why did everyone think I wanted to stay on Neverland? I was just as much of a prisoner as they! A small voice in the back of my head laughed at that statement. Why would I want to leave when the person I loved -who also wanted to kill me- was here? I twirled the stick in my hands as a distraction, watching the Boys begin their dance for another night. A few played games around the clearing instead. Rope climbing, archery, sparring and fencing were popular. If you listened hard you could hear them playing Hide and Seek in the jungle. It made the hairs on my arm stand up when I heard them hunting. Sometimes it was game, sometimes it was each other.

Peter had long since disappeared, the song wafting through the clearing by magic. I stared at the roaring flames, occasionally sweeping the camp for any sign of the King of Neverland. Still on guard, I stuck one end of my branch in the fire after having peeled off all the bark. It took a few seconds before it caught, but then it glowed like a large candle. Smiling faintly, I blew it out, tracing my name on the rocks surrounding the blaze with the charcoal. The heat was almost unbearable this close, and I marveled at how Felix constantly sat so near with his cloak on. A hand landed on my shoulder, startling me into discarding the wood into the fire. Frowning, I turned to see Peter, a smirk playing at his lips.

"Come on," He urged like he hadn't just forced me to murder his Lost Boy earlier. "I want to show you something." Distrustful, I stood, my fingertips sliding over my thighs as I stretched. Halfway through twisting my arms outwards behind my back in a luxurious elongating of my spine, Peter latched onto my wrist, tugging me off balance towards the trees while simultaneously ceasing my stretches. I yelped in surprise, stumbling to keep even with his long, confident stride. The scenery battled with my thoughts for my focus, making me vulnerable to sneakily raised roots and the like. If Peter hadn't threw an arm out to stop me I would've gone tumbling down the abrupt hill. "Look." He whispered, pulling me down behind a bush and nodding towards the open area beyond.

I took a deep breath, surveying the clearing with a studious eye. Obviously there was something special here he wanted me to notice on my own. At the far corner was a patch of small, dark purple and red blossoms. From that far away I couldn't see the thorns dripping inky poison. A doe was slowly wandering into the open, nibbling at the grass as she went. The edges of my mouth rose into a soft grin; from the corner of my eye I could see Peter switching between watching myself and the deer.

I noticed the closer the animal got to the bush, the more eager Peter seemed, and it worried me. He narrowed his eyes, and when I looked at him he shook his head, nodding to the clearing again. Shifting to a more comfortable crouch, I stared as a spear flew and nearly impaled the doe. The animal leaped into the bush of flowers, standing shakily before falling to the ground and twitching, covered in thin, dark scratches. I gasped at the gruesome scene, grabbing Peter's arm without thinking when the spear hit the ground. The animal was dead before the Lost Boys even came into view. A chorus of chuckles and jeers trickled across the field to us as they started to drag the deer off to skin it. "That's what Dreamshade does." Peter supplied, glancing at me from the corner of his eye. After waiting to make sure the Boys were really gone, Peter grabbed my hand and pulled me over to the bush.

"What is it?" I inquired, swallowing nervously. "A poison?" Peter nodded, smiling slightly.

"Very good. We coat our arrows in this, so even if we miss the heart we still win. Your friend, Alexander, he's the best at aiming. One of my most loyal Lost Boys besides Felix." Peter supplied cheerfully, tilting his head slightly, gauging my reaction before we started off again. I didn't have time to ponder why Alex's loyalty would be something I would react to before I was struggling to work my way past the dense foliage. "You'll have to learn to notice it if you ever hope to be safe outside the camp. Look for the flowers, watch out for the thorns -and especially, learn the smell. It's a better warning than the rest, because there is a multitude of thorny florals on my island." He called, casting glances over his shoulder every minute or two to ensure I hadn't fallen too far behind. I nodded, realizing that the scent was the same one I couldn't identify on him earlier. It was sweet and flowery but had a bitter edge that made your nose wrinkle.

* * *

I couldn't tell where we were headed, but I was thoroughly irritated with the copse of roots tangling my feet up every few paces. As I worked to dislodge a particularly stubborn vine, Peter turned around and surprised me by waiting patiently. Growling when I was finally free, I took a few quick strides without watching and the toe of my boot caught under a gnarled thicket. I threw my hands down to brace myself, but it was unnecessary, as Peter caught me easily, helping me to my feet. I felt the heat rising to my cheeks as I mumbled my thanks. The emerald of his eyes was considerably lighter now, almost teasing as he smirked at me. "Don't walk much, do you, Trinket?"

I scowled at him, trying to take my arms back. "No, I simply run most of the day. There's a demon who enjoys setting his dogs loose on me." Peter smile darkened slightly, but he continued to play along, humming softly as if this was news to him.

Jumpy, I tried to twist my hands out of his. "Interesting. There's a little panther in these woods that keeps breaking my rules. My dogs enjoy chasing her. What a coincidence..." My heart began hammering in my chest as his fingers tightened.

With a jolt, I realized I had never explored the West and North side of the island -the side we were on. I'd barely gone East, and the beach was to the South. What other dangers were hidden on Neverland? "Really?" I nodded, my gaze darting around nervously in search of hiding Lost Boys. "Strange coincidence... What happens to this- this panther? Does she live?" I prompted, giving up on my hands for the moment when he began to press his nails dangerously close to a vein that had become visible under my skin thanks to the pressure he was applying to my wrists.

Peter's features became thoughtful as he watched me. "I'm not so sure. She's very skittish, so perhaps. If she can keep running, maybe she'll outsmart the dogs, though it bores me to give chase so often. The definition of insanity is repeating an action and expecting different results, you know. I've won the hunt each time so far. It makes me wonder as to why she keeps running." He paused to wet his lips, watching me with growing curiosity. "However, I'm not certain I'm done with the panther, not quite yet. She's proven very intriguing as of late." I nodded slowly, my eyes snapping to his.

I took a deep breath, a cold finger of fear snaking its way up my spine. "You're going to kill me, aren't you?" I breathed bluntly. He looked slightly taken aback, annoyed with my abrupt end of our small game. His brow furrowed and he wet his lips again as he thought of an answer. "_Aren't you_?" I demanded, arching my eyebrows, telling myself I wasn't afraid.

Peter sighed softly, taking my face in his hands. He stared at me, running his thumb over my cheek slowly. I felt like prey that had been cornered by its hunter. He smirked softly, watching my eyes widen as he brushed his mouth across mine gingerly. "Oh, Trinket, of course I am." Peter crooned.

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**A/N: From here on out Pan is going to be gradually less nice to Bree, and she's probably going to get hurt... a lot. Being an evil author is fun. :) I hope you guys like this chapter! I love you all, thank you for reading! Bluemoon, over and out~**


	13. Chapter 12: I Hate You

**A/N: *blows dust off account, coughing slightly* Well, then. This is awkward... Allow me to extend a heartfelt apology to my wondrous readers for taking over a month to update. I lost my creative juices after the last chapter and I noticed the lack of OOMPH in my recent chapters so I took a break to reboot. After a chat with one of my most favorite people in the world I garnered some ideas that sparked an update. Again, I'm really sorry that it took so long. Any reviews or constructive criticism would be extremely helpful, so if it isn't too much to ask...? Here is the long awaited, Chapter Twelve ladies and gents!**

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Have you ever had that moment when you knew things were suddenly too good to be true, and then the bomb is dropped on your head, and it is exactly what you had been dreading? That was that very moment as the two of us stood in the thick of the West Forest. The weight of his ominous words took a moment to process, off-set by his cheerful tone as if he was commenting on the weather. I felt the ghost of his breath washing over my face, the thick, choking heat that hung in the air, the cold sweeping through my veins like a vengeful river. Despite the playful smirk on his pale pink mouth, there was a sinister edge to his emerald eyes. Peter meant every word wholeheartedly. He would kill me, slowly, and enjoy every second of it.

I swallowed thickly, struggling to find my voice as I studied the sharp ridges of his collarbone. He was perfect, and that was his lure. Peter made Neverland out to be paradise when it was hell. His charismatic, charming demeanor hid the true evil underneath. I had been a fool to believe the lies, but so had thousands of wretched souls before me. There was no safe, certain way off the island save for death. Inhaling deeply, I straightened to my full height, staring into his eyes with a serious expression. "Then do it."

Peter exhaled softly, shaking his head at me. "Is this a hint of suicide I am becoming privy to or an attempt to call my bluff?" His calloused palms dropped to my shoulders as he wound a strand of raven hair about his index finger. I cleared my throat, nervous, and took a steadying gulp of air.

"I said, do it. If you're going to kill me, then kill me." I insisted, my voice wavering slightly. Peter cocked his head, intrigued by my sudden demand. His nose scrunched slightly as if I was confusing him.

"Why so eager all the sudden?" He inquired, all malicious enjoyment replaced by blatant curiosity. With an almost childlike delight, he tugged lightly on my hair before releasing the lock.

I bit the inside of my lip, tracing the bridge of his nose to avoid the scrutiny of his gaze. "It only seems logical. You want me dead. Here I am offering you the chance, why won't you take it?" A flicker of desperation rose the pitch of my voice by a smidgen. Either way he answered, I knew it would only prolong the inevitable. If I was going to die I would prefer it happen quickly rather than to live in fear till it occurred. My storm blue eyes roved over the arch of his brow, the subtle cupid's bow of his lips and the amused way they quirked up at the corners. He thought I wasn't being serious.

"Trinket, you're beginning to sound despairingly similar to my enemies, begging for death like this. You cannot rush my wishes. I'll keep you as long as it pleases me." Peter gave a condescending smile. I dropped my gaze to the shallow rise and fall of his chest as his heart beat and he took in air. He breathed, he had a heartbeat, he smiled: all of this meant Peter should be human, he should be alive. If he was _human_, why was he so _inhumane_?

"And if I take it upon myself? What then?" I challenged, lifting my chin to glare at him. Peter's expression turned dark as he held tighter to my shoulders, his grip bruising the already aching muscles and discolored skin. The light in his eyes at the dare made my gut lurch sickeningly.

With a pleasant, one-sided grin, he bore into my soul through my defiant blue eyes. Peter's voice came out as a low, threatening growl. "There are things worse than death, Trinket, and I can make them all happen on a whim. I can become your worst, most feared nightmare if you attempt to leave me. There are ways to break every person, and I know all of them. I suggest you be a good little Lost Girl and stay in line. I've grown rather weary of rescuing you from your brash tendencies." Peter's eyes narrowed a fraction, inviting me to say he was bluffing. I wet my lips, unnerved by the danger radiating off him in waves. After a few difficult tries at swallowing the lump in my throat I simply nodded.

Satisfied with my answer, Peter took ahold of my wrist. There was the feeling I had come to think of as drowning out of water, then the rough burst of oxygen in my lungs as we appeared at the tall hut Alexander had hidden me in when Captain Hook attacked. I took the time to study the structure and surrounding area. It stood above the hollowed trunk of a large oak tree, balanced on a platform of wood planks. In the haste of the previous night I hadn't noticed the vines surrounding the tree, making it look to be thriving. If you didn't look too closely at the upper 'branches' you would think it was just another tree in the strange jungle mixed forest. The sunlight slanting through the canopy lit a patch of violet and red flora. The hut was backed with Dreamshade!

Ignoring my scrutiny of the surrounding area, Peter wrapped both hands around a thick vine, giving a sharp pull and taking a few steps back with the foliage. A large section of the bark lifted away to reveal the ladder I had seen when Alexander brought me here. The muscles in his back pulled under his tunic as he tied the makeshift rope off, gesturing for me to climb the ladder. I glanced over my shoulder, seeing more of the toxic plant lining the pathway that looped around the house as if it didn't exist. My breath became less even as I began the assent, feeling the ladder give slightly as he started up just below me. My trembling hands pushed at the trap door, slowly letting it lean against the wall. With a heave, I pulled myself out of the hole in the floor, turning to wait as Peter followed.

"You'll be staying here tonight. I expect you're hungry, so I had some food prepared and left on the table. Magic can only sustain a non-magic person for so long." I nodded, smelling the meat and fruit already. Peter tilted his head slightly, reaching to brush a stray lock of hair behind me ear. I nearly flinched away from his touch, but with a good deal of self-control I held still. A small frown shadowed his mouth as his brow furrowed. I wanted to ask him what he was thinking about, why he had that look on his face, what all of this was for. With a few blinks, Peter dropped his lingering touch, gesturing to the other room. "There's fresh water in the pitcher. I have Lost Boys standing guard."

"Why?" I finally murmured, confusion knitting my brows together.

He must have thought I meant the guards and not the entire situation. "To keep you safe, of course." With a smirk, he disappeared and the door fell shut with a clattering thud. I was being kept under lock and key so I couldn't attempt anything. Typical of Peter to have a Plan B already in place. With a sigh of defeat, I slumped into the chair beside the small table, picking at the food listlessly. I couldn't deny the soft rumbling in my stomach for long, but I also couldn't trust the food to not be poisoned. After many minutes of debate, I decided to eat the platter. Peter had said he wasn't ready to let me go yet. Even if it was poisoned, that meant it would save me the trouble of finding an alternative.

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Once my stomach had been satisfied and my thirst quenched, I began to take inventory of the items at my disposal. The dagger was in the tree I had woken up in, and that meant I had virtually nothing to defend myself with. The second area of the hut had a simple hair brush, a small bristle-brush for bathing, a bar of soap that smelled of gardenias, and a large piece of cloth to dry oneself with. Eager to wash the cold and mud from my skin, I tested the water, drawing the wall divider closed completely around the large wood basin. It wasn't the best tub I had seen, but it would do. The water was surprisingly warm, and the soap cleared my skin of dried blood, dirt, and the disgusting feel of death that had accumulated over night. With each rough scrub I removed Peter's influence, his touch. It felt like a tiny chink of heaven after the two weeks submerged in pain.

Once my skin was devoid of any grunge, I toweled off quickly, slipping back into my clothes with a satisfied smile. Taking a seat on the bed, I began the lengthy process of untangling my mass of ebony waves with the brush. Time elapsed quickly till my locks were once more smooth and fell over my shoulders like a river of sable silk. The gold threading in the shirt made my eyes look brighter. The green made the lack of color in my skin less noticeable. Despite where it had come from, the shirt made a minuscule smile stretch over my lips. I rinsed the stale taste from my mouth, feeling far better than I had since I arrived on Neverland. At least I was full and clean now. The sun was leaning towards the west in the sky, making me surprised by the amount of time I had spent in the hut.

Once more my gaze fell upon the chest; curiosity bloomed. I folded my legs so I sat criss-cross in front of the furniture, running the tips of my fingers over the keyhole, marveling at the smoothness of the tarnished silver. I reached for the only thing I had left of my mother out of instinct: her knife. I could force the chest open with it. Panic surged through me when my fingers came back empty. The hilt in my boot was gone along with the precious heirloom. Tears sprang to my eyes just as the air changed in the room. The voice I wanted to hear least in that moment reached my ears. "Don't bother looking for a key. I destroyed it a long time ago."

"Where is it?" I choked, my eyes searing the floorboards with all of my anger in the open.

"I said don't look for it, Trinket. The key has been gone for centuries." Peter repeated in annoyance, maintaining the matter-of-fact tone.

I came to my feet, clenching my fists as I took a few enraged steps towards him till I was inches away. "Not the key. I don't care about the key. _Where is my mother's dagger?_" I snarled, glaring at him as if it would make him disappear. A smirk touched his face as he watched me.

"Does it matter? You can't have it back." I raised my brows in disbelief, livid with his casual dismissal. Upon my vexed expression he continued. "If it makes you any less worried, I have it in a safe place. No one but myself knows where it is hidden, so the Boys cannot claim it."

Hot, furious tears spilled from my eyes as I battered his chest. "No, that doesn't make me worry less!" I yelled, glaring at him through the blur my vision had become. "Don't you know that's all I have left from her? You can't take it from me like this!" I pummeled his chest till my knuckles were sore and I found the action pointless; Peter didn't react like I had hoped. I wanted him to hit me back, I wanted a reason to fight him, to kill him. I wanted my mother's dagger back. I wanted to cry till I couldn't. My punches dwindled to weak tap of my fist against his muscular chest as his arms slowly encircled my sobbing form. I hiccuped and shook, and cried till the tears stained his tunic. "I hate you." I whispered against the soft fabric, not caring if he heard. "I hate you. You're a demon, and I hate you." I whimpered, my fists clenched in the fabric. "Why won't you kill me already?" I demanded through the haze of fatigue and tears.

Peter took a deep breath, letting it stir the top of my head as he thought of a suitable response. The silence filled the room as I continued to sniffle and mumble into his shirt, waiting for him to react the way I wanted, the way he always did. I blinked as the tears began to lessen, falling silently now. Peter held me close, but his hold lacked the violence it usually did, the command. I could pull away if I wanted, I could hide in the second room. I could climb onto the roof or out the window. "I told you," He finally growled, the irritation in his voice sounding forced. "I'll kill you when I'm ready, not when it pleases you." The rumble of his voice in his chest was surprisingly soothing despite the venom in my mind. He had taken her from me. He had taken Luke. He would take my life, my courage, my pride, my strength -everything, as long as it appeased him.

"You're a monster." I uttered monotonously, my eyes closed to the depression of the hut.

With a soft chuckle, Peter replied, "And you're an unloved, lonely, Lost Girl. I suppose that makes us even." I shook my head slowly, watching the sun as the sky became bruised with twilight. Peter ducked his head, pulling me away from him to stare at me calculatingly. "You don't want to die, Trinket. You're curious. You're desperate. You're hurting, but not suicidal."

"If you don't think I am, sit me near a patch of Dreamshade and watch." I hissed, pushing him away roughly. "You think you can toy with me, and tease me, and make me believe there is some good in you when we both know you want nothing more than to make me suffer. I'm not naive. I'm not blind to your ways, Peter Pan." The words pulled from my clenched jaw with a ferocity I knew I needed to hold onto.

Peter smirked wickedly, a dark glitter in his eyes as he took a step closer. "You think you're so clever, Trinket." He sneered, malice coloring his tone again. "You think I value your life, that I _care_ for you. You are correct on one account. Nothing would make me happier than to bleed you out and rip your beating heart from your chest." My eyes widened slightly. I tensed, willing him to continue, to get angry enough to hit back. Peter was never one to get his hands dirty, he let others do it for him. I had to provoke some kind of reaction out of him. Anything was better than these aimless threats. He took a deep breath, huffing like a child that had been told 'no'. "But I can't do that, not yet at least. Not until I've stripped you of everything you value. I'll make you break, and once I am finished, when the pain, and insanity, and fear is too much, I will be the one to end you and be merciful."

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**A/N: Wow, that felt good to finish. I would keep going, but I want to save it for the next chapter. It sucks that I got so little work done on this over summer. I have a little over a week before school starts again, and I intend to use every last bit of it. Thank you to everyone that has put this fic on their alerts and/or favorites list. Thank you to all my lovely, beautiful readers for supporting this story and myself. Bluemoon, over and out~**


	14. Chapter 13: 'You Never Play Fair Anyways

**A/N: Impossible! Two updates in one day?! Consider this my 'I'm sorry' gift for the cliffhanger and month+ wait. I'm much more prepared to write now, and I finally got my muse back. Once school starts I'm gonna have little to no time to update, so if there is another long break, I'm sorry in advance. This next chapter can get a little rough, and like I promised, Peter is a lot less nice to Bree -but there is a very exciting scene, so there's that. Chapter 13 everyone!**

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Crossing my arms, worried, I raised my chin at him. "How is that merciful if you're the one that drove me over the edge in the first place?" I arched a brow accusingly, staring him dead in the eye with false bravado. The viridescent color of his eyes was enough to instill a fraudulent sense of safety in me, even as the crooning tone to his voice told me I was being duped.

"I'd put an end to the suffering, isn't that considered mercy?" Peter took a small step closer, resulting in my taking a large step back, skirting the table clumsily as my hand brushed the surface. With a grin, he took another step, and another till my back hit the corner where the two walls met. Panic rose in my chest as he towered over me despite only being two inches taller. "I've given you _everything_, Bree. Anything you asked for, I made a reality. You wanted to prove yourself so I let you join in the games. Y-"

"I never asked to be beaten half to death by your band of rogues." I snapped, my nails digging into the wall. "I never asked for you to set them on me and make them chase me till I collapsed. How is that everything I asked for?" Peter drew the back of his hand over my cheek, tracing the curve of my neck. I shivered, pressing as much against the wall as I could. I wanted to pin him down and return every hit tenfold, but I was paralyzed by the warmth emanating from his body, the sweetness of his breath.

"Didn't you?" Peter smirked, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. With a soft laugh, he took a step back, allowing me to duck out of the way. Confused, my brow furrowed as anger bubbled in me once more. He was saying that I had been asking for this torment? Without warning my hand flew, aimed to smack across his face full force. I winced as he caught my wrist, clenching it tight enough that a sharp gasp rose in my throat at the sudden burst of pain. I tried in vain to pull the limb away till he threw it back at me, smiling good-naturedly. "Besides, you and I both know you aren't going anywhere, Trinket. You don't have a say in the matter, you're mine."

I winced, turning away so he couldn't see the discomfort spread across my face. Rubbing the skin tenderly, I took a deep breath. "You should leave. I'd like to get some sleep." I murmured, hating the tremors in my voice. I held my wrist gingerly, waiting for him to comply with my request. A soft exhale met my trembles as he disappeared, taking the cold in the hut along with him. A loud sigh left me as I scanned the room, staring at the wall with vehemence. Relieved, I dropped the calm expression I had adopted, feeling the deep heave of my breath both a luxury and a weakness.

I yelped as strong arms wrapped around me, spinning me to face them. Hatred like I had never felt before mingled with terror that struck me to my core, piercing my gut like the plunge off a cliff into the water. I screamed, struggling with everything I had in me to free myself from Peter's hold. A low growl rumbled in his chest as he pinned me backwards into the table, forcing my back into a painful arch as the furniture was a little shorter than my waist. I let another yell out, wriggling against his hold. A dark chuckle pealed from his lips, sounding both beautiful and dark at the same time.

"You really thought this was over?" Peter crooned, brushing a stand of hair out of my face. His breathing was quick, excited. I struggled even more desperately, my heart pounding against my rib cage, blood rushing in my ears, air seeming to run short as I gasped for breath. I could feel the cold in the room offset by the angered flush to my cheeks and the combined warmth of our bodies.

"Peter, let go of me!" I shouted, my voice shrill with fear. "Get off me!" I demanded, attempting to throw his weight to the side. Why hadn't the guards he placed done something? Couldn't they hear me? The light in his eyes was quickly drowned out by the dark hunger in them as he smashed the lantern behind my head. With a scowl, he flipped me over, clutching my head in one arm so I was forced to see how close he was pining my wrist to a shard of glass and oil. I felt tears rolling down my cheeks, overcome with hysteria."No, no, please! Peter, please!" I yelped, holding perfectly still. With a soft sigh, he slammed my head into the table, catching my limp body as I fell backwards.

My vision started to go, bleeding into darkness as I slowly lost consciousness. I felt him brush the hair out of my face and the soft, pleased hum of his voice. "It didn't have to happen this way, Bree..." He chuckled, carrying my lifeless body away from the dangerous shards. "Then again, maybe it did."

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I felt the pain radiating across my skull and the pounding of the quickly-formed bruise first. Then there was the feel of a light breeze on my skin and the dull pain of rope knotted too tightly around my wrists behind the tree I was bound to. I groaned as my heavy lids lifted, squinting against the harsh light of the half moon. With a soft crunching of leaves, Peter rose from his crouch a few feet away. "I was wondering when you'd come to. You had me worrying I'd hit you too hard, Trinket." Peter circled the tree, tugging on the bonds experimentally to check that they would hold.

My voice sounded a bit raspy and unusual to my own ears. I couldn't see Lost Boys, but something told me this was another of his games; another way to punish me for challenging him. "Go to hell. If you were worried so much, here's a clue. Don't slam my head into a solid maple wood table next time."

Peter smirked, tucking my hair behind my ears to see the entirety of my face and the ugly bruise he had caused. I tensed, saving my energy. "Don't be so callous. I let you leave the hut. You should be thanking me, again. I'm giving you what wanted." I winced as he ran his fingers over the mark, surprised at the way the pain leaked away.

I found my voice, stumbling over the words. "H-how did you just do that?" Peter arched an eyebrow pointedly.

"I am magic, aren't I? That's another sign of gratitude you owe me, Trinket." I glowered at him, hatred seeping from my every pore.

With a flippant sigh, I stared up at the moon, forcing a smile. "If you brought me out here to kill me, hurry it along. I'd rather not wait." Peter chuckled, shaking his head at me.

"I already told you, Trinket. I'm no where _near_ finished with you yet. If I were you-"

"If you were me, I'd be a bastard. Thank goodness I'm me and you're you because that would simply be _tragic_." I sneered, interrupting him. His expression darkened by a fraction, but he smiled.

"If I were you, I would learn to keep my mouth shut and stop asking about my demise." Peter studied the irritated stare I was giving him with interest. He trailed the back of his hand over my cheek, making me tense just before he slapped me with such force that my head swung to the side. I clenched my jaw, swallowing the bile in my throat. If he wanted to make me cry he'd have to try harder than that. Peter hummed in amusement. "You think staying silent will save you, Breeana? You think I'll take pity on you if you stay strong?" He sneered, twirling his blade absently. I stared at the razor-sharp item with a sense of dread, waiting for him to strike again.

Peter watched me, slightly annoyed at my lack of response. With a flourish of his hand, he pulled all of my hair over my right shoulder, running his nose up the length of my neck to my ear. His lips sent tingles through me as he whispered. "I do wish you were screaming again, it's rather entertaining, you know." I shivered, feeling my heart stutter as my breathing became less consistent. Peter laughed softly, pressing a kiss to my temple as he angled the tip of the blade against the side of my neck. I whimpered at the fresh pang of suffering, feeling the blood trail to the pronounced angles of my collarbones.

Peter ducked his head, capturing the scarlet droplets on his lips before they could stain my shirt. With an agile tilt of his head he followed the flow to the small incision he had inflicted. I clenched my jaw against the fluttering of my stomach, trying to ignore the lightening spreading across my skin. With a soft breath, Peter kissed the mark, biting at the wound. Tears pricked my eyes while he chuckled in amusement. It stung, but the ache began to recede till it was replaced entirely by the tingling sensation his touch brought. "What the hell are you doing to me?" I murmured, puzzled by the cycle he was making.

"It's a matter of perspective. To you, this is both dreadful and wonderful. To me, it's just plain fun. We both know that I could do this all night, but it would get rather boring so..." Peter took a deep breath, running his fingers over the fading mark with reverence. "I would prefer you weren't tied to the tree the entire time. It would make things much more interesting."

"I'd just run away. I'm not in the mood for your games." I growled, jerking away from his touch. I clung to the hatred boiling under my skin, using it as a shield against his charms. "Nothing good ever comes out of them."

Peter smirked, giving me an amused glance as he assessed my facial features lazily. "How so? I always find them intriguing. Perhaps it is an acquired taste, much like your blind rage and tendency towards imbecilic actions." He raised his brows in a pointed expression, slipping behind the ash tree to cut the rope from around my wrists. I held still, not wanting another close call like with the lantern.

I took a calming breath, waiting for him to stand in front of me. "I'm hunted down like a deer till you make me so tired I collapse. That isn't a game -it's torture." I informed him, rubbing the red welts braceleting my wrists with a bothered expression. Peter shrugged a shoulder, taking one hand from me gently, caressing the skin with his cool fingertips.

"To each his own." I watched in amazement as the redness began to diminish, then nothing was left behind but pale skin with the blue trail of veins. "But one day, you'll see things my way." Peter smiled, trailing his finger over my palm and finger teasingly. I yanked the appendage out of reach, my gaze tearing into him with the ferocity of a pride of lions. Peter's face was blank, a controlled rage in his eyes. With the help of magic, he pinned me to the thick tree he had been sitting under, tangling his fist in my locks and holding my head against the tree. I winced at the sharp pain spreading from the roots of my hair, clenching my jaw against the words that wanted to force their way out and into the open.

With an expression only described as pure happiness mingled with all-consuming rage, Peter slammed his mouth against mine, an aggressive show of dominance. I clenched my jaw, curling my fingers into his hair and pulling his face away from my own roughly. My breathing was heavy after the attack, the anger I had felt earlier doubling. "Don't ever do that again." I ordered, sounding much less forceful than I had hoped, gasping for oxygen.

Peter glared at me, tightening the grip he had on my raven hair, grasping my chin with bruising force. "I can do whatever I wish, Trinket. Until the day you die, you're mine. No one else can touch you, speak of or to you, or think of you without knowing that you will never be theirs. That if they even _attempted_ to capture your affection I would murder them where they stood." His breathing was harsh, riled from the blatant hatred radiating off me. I gathered control of my thoughts, piercing his gaze with my own.

"I will _never _be yours. You can keep me prisoner as long as you like. You may torture me, and threaten me, and tie me to as many trees as this island has, but I will _never _belong to you." I spat, holding back a yelp at the way he was nearly tearing my hair out of my skull. Peter narrowed his almost-black emerald gaze, his free hand slipping to the hem of my shirt, toying with it.

"You may believe that, but no one else will. If I wake up one morning and decide that I'm tired of you, I can sell you to the pirates, or I can have my boys hunt you down till one of them catches you and shoots you through the heart." He shifted against me, trapping me between his lithe body and the tree. Tears pricked the back of my eyes as he gave a sharp tug on my hair, releasing the chunk he had nearly ripped out. "But until that day, I can beat you bloody, and lock you in a cage, and let you _rot_ on this island. Unless I say so, you're will never be leaving Neverland."

I swallowed against the dryness in my mouth. Peter's fingers skimmed my side where the hem of my shirt had ridden up, making me clench my jaw again, biting the inside of my lip to hold back the screams threatening to escape. With a bitter glare, Peter watched the slow crumbling of my facade. "Why are you doing this?" I asked for the second time that night. Peter scoffed, shaking his head.

"Because you being terrified amuses me. The way you are positively... _trembling," _His gaze dropped to my shoulders momentarily. "Excites me. Seeing you so close to breaking, so fragile," He cupped my face, rubbing his thumb over my cheek with an earnest expression. "Makes me happy. Being able to tear you down and let you rebuild yourself only to fall again is one of the most enjoyable things I've ever experienced."

I took a sharp inhale, my breath hitching in my throat. I could hear the thumping of my heart in my hears, I could feel it in my gut. Peter traced looping circles on my side, making me squeeze my eyes shut. I wanted this nightmare to end. I wanted to be able to love Peter without the fear of him turning on me and doing this. I wanted to cut out my heart so I couldn't feel it breaking anymore. Tears fringed my lashes as they rolled down my cheeks. Peter brushed them away, placing a delicate kiss on each eyelid. The quiet chirping of crickets was nonexistent on Neverland, so the only sound was of the Boys in the far distance, beating on their drums, and the occasional rustle of prey in the bushes. My breathing was heavy, almost ragged as I struggled to hold myself together and Peter took delight in my misery.

With tears still staining my ashen face, I curled the tips of my fingers in his hair, pulling his face closer till I pressed my lips to his, letting the rolling frustration and red-hot pain take over as I kissed him. Peter responded with equal passion, cradling the back of my head as he forced me against the tree harder. I gasped as the bark dug into my back, wanting to twist a spear through his shoulder as Andrew had done to me. Peter remained oblivious to my menacing thoughts, biting at the sensitive skin of my neck, turning my body to a pool of molten fear and frigid loathing. I hated that he could coax any reaction out of me he wanted. I hated that I kept playing right into his hands. I hated that I was right when I told Alex I could never win. Oh, how I wished I was wrong.

With renewed hostility, I forced his head to face mine again, biting into his lip hard enough to draw blood, kissing him again to make it all seem like an accident. The salty, copper taste of his bleeding mouth filled mine. I grimaced against the flavor, nearly jumping out of my skin when he pulled on my lower lip. He played dirty, and if I wanted to survive the night I would have to step up to the challenge. "Why are you -acting like this?" I gasped between ragged breaths and burning kisses.

Peter nuzzled my neck, grazing the shell of my ear with his teeth. "Why are you?" He countered, a teasing note to his husky voice. My heart thrashed against my chest, fighting to explode. Peter's pulse was at a gallop under my fingers, making me feel slightly less like I was losing. Hot, angry tears blurred my vision when his hips ground against mine. With a sharp pull, I tripped us both. Shocked, I landed on top of his laughing form, bracing my hands on his shoulders. He grinned up at me, a glimmer of mischief in his breathtaking eyes. "That's cheating."

My gaze locked with his as I whispered, "You never play fair anyways."

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**A/N: Yay for yummy Pree stuff. XD I hope this chapter makes you guys happy, as I was DYING to write it. There was so much tension between them you could literally cut it like a block of cheese. This is my present to my faithful readers for hanging on this long with that awful cliffhanger. I love you all, Bluemoon, over and out~**


	15. Chapter 14: 'You Didn't Hear It From Me'

**A/N: If you haven't seen the TV mini-series 'Neverland' you're missing out on some awesome stuff. It gave me some ideas and a few things to think on. Thank you to everyone still reading this, it makes me happy to know that there are a few people who don't think my writing is out of control. Here's Chapter 14!**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own OUAT, Neverland, or any characters therein. I only own my OCs and what randomness transpires.**

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Peter's mouth stretched into a cocky smirk, relaxed. Apprehension made my throat dry while he locked his gaze with mine. "Any rule can be broken on Neverland," Peter murmured in response, tracing my features with his eyes. "But my rules are definite. You would do well to remember that." I gave a short sigh through my nose, focusing on keeping my weight off Peter. His voice was calm, soft. It brought to light the ghost of the boy that had been my friend when I slept. My eyes saw the monster he was when my head refused to believe it. I knew it then and still do to this day. I would never change the ruthless King of Neverland, but he would change me till I was unrecognizable to myself if I gave him the chance.

"When it was raining Felix said something strange..." I mused, gauging his expression uncertainly. "He said that that was the first time it had rained since-"

Peter nodded as if he expected me to ask soon or later. "Since the first. He's right. I'll admit, you had me worried for a minute or two till I realized you didn't know." His perfect teeth showed as he grinned up at me. I pounced on the opening, hoping Peter wasn't just teasing me. I desperately wanted to know.

"Didn't know what? That it was the first time it had rained in centuries?" I felt my arms shake slightly, from exhaustion or excitement I couldn't tell. I knew Peter must have been uncomfortable with my hands pressed into his shoulders, but I wasn't overly concerned. This was a small form of revenge. The little things I could do would never amount to the pain he inflicted daily, but it was something to keep my spirits up for the time being.

Peter shook his head, blinking a few times, sighing while he mulled over my puzzled expression. "That you caused it." I froze, staring at him dumbly. My brows slowly furrowed, my lips parting as the information sunk in. He thought I was a... witch? "You're a rare commodity now, especially after the ploy Andrew tried. Killian will be interested in you, which means I'm interested in keeping you from him. You'll be under guard from now on. You won't go anywhere alone."

My hair had fallen around us in a curtain, brushing the sides of his face as I shook my head. "I don't understand. If I'm as much trouble as you say why do you want to keep me from Hook? Wouldn't it be easier to just let him have me?" Even as I asked I knew the answer. If Peter gave me up it would look bad. Not only that, it would mean he couldn't have me all to himself to torture. I would be gone, and he wouldn't like that because -as far as he was concerned- I wasn't broken enough to release yet.

"I enjoy keeping my enemies close. That, and you've proven to be a rather compelling puzzle. To give up before the fun really starts isn't like me at all." My fingers curled around his shoulders as I pushed myself up - or at least tried to. The way he worded the first sentence formed a knot in my gut. Peter's hands shot out, encircling me while he rolled us over. He straddled my waist as he leaned over me, a mischievous glint to his eyes. "Like I said, it isn't safe for you to be out for long."

"So you're going to keep me in that hut all day long? That looks bleak. How am I supposed to run if I'm caged?" I shot back, ruffled by the sudden change. He couldn't play his games if I wasn't able to react, so locking me away defeated his reasons for keeping me. His hands were planted on either side of my face, his head cocked. A smirk tugged at Peter's mouth, even as he dragged me to my feet and the air disappeared.

* * *

Teleporting was most definitely on the list of things I hated most about Neverland. The food in my stomach was a deadly mix when stress, fear, and the jolting transportation was added. As soon as blessed oxygen filled my nose it was forced out, along with my dinner, into the brush beside the trail. I hurriedly tucked my hair behind my ears, feeling the lance of pain as my stomach rebelled. One sentence kept ringing in my mind: _Peter thinks I'm a witch_.

The idea was preposterous. I'd never done anything remotely close to witch-craft in my life. I was a blacksmith that gardened in her spare time. There was no magic in that, just science. When she had been alive Mother would teach me all about her precious flowers, smiling at me while the sun dazzled her jet-black hair and warm hazel eyes. The night I had found her butchered in the street was the first time I had cried since I was a babe. Sobs had torn from me because my mommy wouldn't wake up, she was covered in red, she was cold. I remember the rain hammering my face and her body, washing away the gruesome color and making the pools of it in the street run. When my father had come out to see what all my wailing was for he turned ghostly white, like the sheets on laundry day. Seeing my strong, smiling father stumbling back as I screamed for him to wake mommy up was when I first felt the cold grasp of the world. I had vomited that night as well, wallowing in my sorrow while my father drank his away.

A pale hand shook my shoulder, bringing me back to the present as they pushed a canteen into my trembling grasp. " 'Eah, drink up." The Boy ordered, his thick English accent reminding me of home once more. I gargled the chilled water, spitting it into the bushes. Rinsing my mouth out to rid it of the horrid, acrid taste, I handed him back his bottle. My smile was more of a grimace, lightened by my murmur of thanks. "Th' names Fox." He smiled, his strawberry-blonde curls reminding me of whipping milk. He looked almost underfed, but stood as tall as I.

"Bree. Again, thank you." I dabbed at my mouth with the back of my hand, feeling its twitching for myself. Peter clamped a hand around my bicep impatiently, guiding me back towards the hut where Alex stood, stoic. From where Peter's hand rested spread a rapidly dragging fatigue, making my lids heavy.

"I'll fetch her in the morning. Make sure she doesn't leave till then." Peter order, giving each Boy a narrowed glare. Alex dipped his head before Fox could regain his post, leaving the lanky, wide-brown-eyed Lost Boy standing to his left to hurriedly catch up. I rolled my eyes, a sleepy grin pasting over my mouth as I waved at them.

"S'good t' see you all. Bye bye, Peter. I'll go escape while you're away." I giggled, feeling the delirium that meant his spell had took full hold. "Mh'be I'll sleep instead..." I yawned, hauling my tired-heavy limbs up the bamboo contraption and collapsing on the springy bed. I was asleep before my head hit the feather-pillow.

* * *

Foggy memories and wisps of my dream mingled together with another attack from the island. I thrashed in the bed, my legs tangled in the blankets. Screams erupted all around me, grinning boys with emerald eyes, taller shadows with heavy clubs, laughter. It all swirled behind my eyelids, painting the black canvas of sleep with terror and anguish. Hot, burning liquid seeped from lashes covering my arms. Purple so dark it was black was dripped over the wounds by a smirking figure, cradling my jerking form in their arms. I felt the flush of fear on my face, countered by a cold patch. Someone was shaking me violently, shouting indistinctly. My throat burned, raw. I hated the screaming. It was loud, echoing. It assaulted my ears and mingled with the repeating of my name, becoming a steady roar of noise.

Hands grabbed at my arms roughly, making me wince as they covered bruises. I struggled feebly, clawing at their fingers to try and daunt them. I was dropped with a yelp, curling up to relieve some of the blinding agony the poison cause. Cold wrapped around me, rocking slightly. I sniffled, whimpering at the large lacerations running the length of my forearms. A voice whispered my name, gentle yet firm. It was one freezing syllable that cut through the delusion, jarring me back to reality.

I gasped, drenched in clammy sweat. The white duvet had ensnared my legs in a knot, my brown tank-top riding up under my green blouse. Disoriented, I swallowed, heaving breaths as I rocked back and forth, my back tapping against a chilling wall. Fox stood at the foot of the bed, his eyes saucers in his stark white face. I shivered, wrapping my arms around myself. His hands bore pink claw marks from my nails. "Are you alrigh'?" Fox asked quietly, fear in his soft brown gaze. I gulped, nodding. My throat was too sore for speech.

"You gave us a fright, Bree." Alexander whispered from behind me. He had been the cold I felt embracing me, and his fingers brushed my shoulders as he pulled away as if hesitant to let go lest I cry out again. "Mind telling us what it was all about?" I could feel the faint shaking in his arms as he backed away, pouring a wooden cupful of water from the porcelain pitcher and handing it to me. I took a large sip of the water, wincing at the freezing temperature.

"I-it was nothing." I croaked, taking another drink. My throat was sore as if I had been running, gasping in the crisp night air. "Just a silly dream." Alex scoffed, his gaze boring into me, demanding the truth. Fox's brows furrowed, making him look younger.

Alex sat on the edge of the bed, his slim form haloed by the moonlight wafting past the lacy curtains. "You're a rotten liar, Bree. What did you see?" His voice was an echo of Peter's making me shrink into myself, tugging at the blanket nervously.

"It was... There were..." I trailed off, searching for the proper words. Everything was still a blur, a ghostly memory. I ran my fingers over my arms, marveling at the pale flesh devoid of marks. "Peter was there with Felix. Peter, he was- he cut me. Like what he did to Andrew." My index finger traced where the gashes should have been. "Then he poisoned me... And I kept hearing the screams. My mother's last screams when I ran to her..." My voice was a raspy whisper, barely audible. Fox's eyes had gotten wider still, his mouth gaping.

Alexander wet his lips, looking down at the flooring before glancing at me, an all too familiar arch to his brow. He was a shadow of Peter, a monochrome twin save for his irises. "You thought it was Pan when we tried to wake you up... You're safe with us, Bree. He's gone for the night. He left to deal with a few things, to speak with the mermaids, spy on the pirates."

I rocked slightly, despising the biting temperature that had settled around me. It was as if Peter had left the breeze from his teleportation in the room. As if he had really been there, cutting into me. I swallowed thickly, trembling against the chill. Everything was too cold. Alexander's voice, his gaze, the room, the water. "I need to get out of here," My storm blue eyes flickered between the two Lost Boys in front of me, pleading. "I just need a few minutes. He doesn't need to know."

Fox shook his head, tightening his grip on the spear he held. "'E always finds out. 'E can sense things about the island, you know. 'E'd find out an' skin us. 'E'd kill us like Andrew. Or worse." His voice was grave. I had never expected this from the cheery, sweet Lost Boy.

"Fox is right, it's too risky." Alexander nodded in agreement, picking his bow off the floor and slipping it over his head. "I want you to be alright, Bree, but I'm always going to be more concerned about my own neck first. We have to follow orders." I watched the way his willowy body slouched slightly as he turned towards the trap door. Fox scurried to get out first, a thump declaring that he hadn't bothered to use the ladder. Alex's head angled towards me, the corner of his mouth turned up. "You didn't hear it from me, but if you were to go out the window I'd be too distracted by Fox's chatter to notice. It isn't like we check on you unless you're screaming anyways." With a graceful twist, Alexander bent into the hole in the floor, giving me a small half-smile before dropping down the ladder, closing the door.

I stared at the square in the flooring, my mouth in a disbelieving grin as I flew to the window, pushing the curtains back. I leaned out, listening intently. Maybe Alex wasn't as much like Peter as I thought... "'M worried 'bout her, Al." Fox's bright voice carried. "She's probably loosing 'er mind fin'lly. She seems like such a nice person... Why d'you think Pan chose 'er?"

I could almost see the roll of his eyes as Alexander responded. "She had a nightmare, Fox. And I've told you, stop calling me Al. Pan chose her because of her brother most likely. I remember him. Little rascal that he was, I'm surprised Pan didn't get fed up with him."

I clung to the side of the hut, my leg stretching for a foothold in the branches. Fox's surprised voice jumped. "Wha'd'ya mean? I thought 'e'd killed th' poor sot." I winced, remembering my inquisitive little Luke fondly as I began the slow descent to the forest floor.

Alex sighed loudly. "No, the kid wandered into Winter Woods. I was shocked when I found out. I thought he would have asked about it first. He got on Felix's nerves like no other because of all his questions." Fox cleared his throat, tapping his spear against the ground. I had never heard of Winter Woods and reminded myself to ask anyone when the opportunity presented itself.

"I s'pose he just wanted some adventure... I mean, didn't we all when we first came to Neverland? We wanted to be great treasure hunters, and map the island..." I slowly lowered myself to the dirt, cringing against the small noise my feet made. I began to back away, giddy with relief as I reached the other side of the worn path. With a large smile, I turned on my heel, rushing through the bushes to get as far from the hut as possible. Alex and Fox would be alright. They could both deny seeing me leave, because I had snuck out. Peter would have to believe them.

I began jogging when their voices faded from hearing, heading for the East side of the island. I felt the smile spreading across my face as I increased my pace, listening intently for any noises in the surrounding area. I felt freedom for the first time I had been on the island. No one was chasing me, and I was alone. Peter was busy with mermaids, Alexander and Fox were too absorbed in their conversation about Luke to notice me slipping away, and I hadn't encountered any Lost Boys. I laughed lightly, slowing my pace when the trees began to thin out. With a triumphant smile I turned past a large boulder, coming face to face with a grinning Felix, swinging his club onto a shoulder lazily.

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**A/N: Sort of a filler chapter, but not really...? It's the lead up to some important events at least, and we meet a new Lost Boy. Nothing good comes from Felix grinning at you, folks. You've been warned. If he grins you run.**


	16. Chapter 15: Rabbit Dens And Tears

**A/N: I'm honestly so shocked. There was a ****_HUGE_**** jump in views on every chapter of this story overnight and I'm EXTREMELY thankful to everyone that had a part in that. I'm practically bouncing in my seat because of the numbers. I can't say thank you enough! Without all of you wonderful readers this story would be pointless! Thank you, thank you, thank you! Chapter 15 everyone!**

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"Well, well, look what I've found. Hello, Bree." Felix's languid drawl froze me in my tracks. I took a sharp inhale, forcing a small smile.

Tentative, I began to maneuver into a partially defensive stance. "Hello, Felix..." I responded politely, tense. Trepidation spread through my limbs. Felix plastered a pleasant smile on his face, his head tilted slightly. His long, tapered fingers twirled his club nonchalantly. His grey-blue eyes scanned my disheveled appearance.

"What brings you to this part of the woods? It was my impression that you were supposed to stay in Pan's hut." I felt dread sliding down my spine, turning my feet to lead. I took a deep breath, pasting on a mask of confusion.

If there was a way to lie my way out of this, I would find it. That place was a trap, a conduit for my fears and nightmares. I wasn't going back tonight, not unless they dragged me kicking and screaming. "What do you mean? I've been out for a good portion of the night. Peter let me out himself." If I avoided some truths, Felix wouldn't be able to say I was lying. I had learned from the King himself: wording was important, and it was a powerful tool.

Felix narrowed his eyes, the smile falling. "Really?" He kicked the ground lightly, swinging the club to his other shoulder, nearly clipping my forehead. "That's strange. Peter told me to rotate the guards outside soon. Now, why would he be guarding an empty hut?"

I shrugged, wracking my brain for a clever way to deflect the question, to side-step suspicion. "The chest..." I whispered, smiling faintly. Felix's brow furrowed, leaning in to better hear.

"What?" Felix prodded, confusion painting his features. The corners of my mouth raised into a small grin.

I top a small step back -just enough to distance us again without him noticing. "The chest. There's a large one in the hut. Didn't the pirates try to break in before? Perhaps Peter just wants to ensure its safety? It was locked, after all. He told me he threw away the key. Obviously, he doesn't want anyone getting at it." Felix's gaze became narrowed. He didn't trust me to be honest, but he most likely knew of the chest.

With a small shake of his head, the grin returned. "Fine, lie all you want. When Pan finds out you left, those guards will be punished and so will you."

Too quickly, I felt the words tumble from my mouth. "They don't know." I mentally kicked myself. I had just dug my own grave. Felix smirked, his grin widening, deepening his scar. "They were guarding still when Peter teleported me out, I mean. I took a walk to get some fresh air. They stayed there." I hurriedly tried to salvage the situation, desperate to protect my only friends on the island.

Felix scoffed and rolled his eyes, already heading towards what I assumed was the camp. "Right. They had no clue you waltzed out for a stroll."

"I went out the window!" I shouted, unable to leave Fox and Alexander to the slaughter to save my own skin. "I snuck out, alright?" I had rushed to catch up with him. "They have no idea I'm even gone." Felix laughed, the sound able to make my skin crawl and be pleasing to the ear at the same time.

"The truth at last! You're going to break all the rules possible, aren't you, Bree? For being Lost, you're pretty insistent on getting away." I bristled, my abhorrence for the blonde growing as he left me in the jungle. Lost Boys were die-hard loyal, even if they were prisoners. Without a second's hesitation, I sprinted back the way I had came, desperate to reach the hut. If I couldn't save myself, I could at least warn Alex and Fox.

* * *

I stumbled slightly, gripping my knees as I doubled over, gasping for air. Fox let out a yelp of surprise, his jaw dropped at my sudden arrival. He mumbled nonsense, gesturing to the hut, slack-jawed. I waved his worrying away, taking deep, slow inhales. "F-Felix, found me. He was just- just _there_, like he was waiting for me! You two need to run." I panted, swiping my forehead with an arm.

Alexander's calm voice shut the idea down. "No. We didn't see you leave. Until now, we didn't know you were even out. We are not at risk. _You _are the one in danger, so I suggest you keep running. If we close our eyes, Peter can't say we lied if we say we don't know where you are." Alex's fingers closed around my shoulders, pulling me to my full height. "Run, Lost Girl. Don't look back." His head of blacker-than-black hair shook when I began to protest. With a gentle push he aimed me towards the West Woods. "Don't worry about us. Just go. _Now._" Alexander ordered, clamping a hand over his and Fox's eyes. The red-headed Lost Boy squawked in shock, squirming to try and pry my friend's hand away from his face.

I felt my heartbeat accelerate as I darted off, weaving through the woods as quickly as I could. I needed to get as far away as possible, as fast as possible.

* * *

Leaves smacked my face, stray branches scratched my arms, but I continued to dash through the trees at a dizzying pace, feeling my lungs scream for air and my muscles shout in protest. I had to stop soon. If I didn't I would collapse from overexertion. The pain would be too much, the lack of oxygen would lock up one of my legs, I would puke again. Something would hinder my progress if I wasn't careful.

Leaning on a tree, I wheezed for breath, shuddering as my gaze darted about. There was no clear path, no sense of direction. Everything was a spinning blur. I couldn't hear them yet, but I knew it wouldn't be long. Fear stabbed my heart as I envisioned what Peter would do to Alexander and Fox when he found out. Would he murder them like he did Andrew? Was that form of torment reserved for betrayers only? I felt like a wounded deer being stalked by a panther. I wasn't strong enough to fight them off at the moment, I couldn't run any further. I was a sitting duck.

With a painstakingly slow pace, I worked my way deeper into the forest. I needed to find somewhere Shadow couldn't see me from the sky and the Boys from the ground. Was there such a place nearby? I had to believe so, or I was running for nothing. My chest heaved while I struggled to gain more distance from the camp, keeping my eyes peeled for a hiding place. Everything looked the same, as if I was wandering aimlessly in a mirror. I kept my gaze focused ahead lest I turn around and make a circle, defeating the purpose of my endeavor, of Alexander's sacrifice.

My thoughts turned to the inhabitant of Neverland I had yet to meet: Tinkerbell. Was she as evil as I thought from what the limited information I had told to me? Or was she just as much a prisoner as I? My breathing had calmed some by now, but it still felt raw in my throat, rasping like an old feline's purr. My feet began to slide, my hands less steady on the trees I passed. The tired I felt went bone-deep, making me less aware. I fought through the sleep dragging at my lids, forcing my battered body to go on. There was no way I could sleep now. I would be butchered before I knew what hit me.

An odd shade caught my eye. There was a small hollow resided under a large tree, partially hidden by a bush. With a grateful sigh, I wormed my way into the hovel, releasing a euphoric laugh. The floor was sandy, smoothed out by centuries of water. I suspected it was an old rabbit home or a badger hole. Either way, I was safe as I could be in Neverland. I wished desperately for my mother's dagger. If I ever made it to the camp alive I would turn the site upside down looking for it. A soft murmur of voices reached my ears, making me struggle to silence my loud breathing. I curled against the wall, tucking myself into the space concealed more effectively by the underbrush. A swath of lamplight cascaded onto the path outside my hideout. The soft whine of metal swaying on metal made me cringe.

"She's gotta be here somewhere." Blaze's deep voice rumbled. Another Boy laughed callously.

"Yeah, and if she ain't? What are we supposed to do then, Blaze, huh? What if she got on Hook's ship out of desperation?"

Blaze sighed, their voices fading slowly as they walked. "Then I pity Alex and Fox. Pan's a raging bear. I'd hate to be stuck in camp right now." I bit my lip. My friends were risking their lives for me. Alexander had lied. He wasn't putting himself first, or he wouldn't have let me go.

The stranger's voice softened slightly. "They're as good as dead if we can't find her. Why doesn't Pan just use his magic? He still has her old shirt, right? Can't he do a locator spell?" Blaze's snort was what made me tremble.

"He'd consider that cheating. And I wouldn't feel too sorry for them. They helped her escape. Alex is smart, he knew what he was doing. They won't suffer long," I tensed, leaning closer to the opening. Blaze's face was all I could see, but his smile made me sickened. "Pan'll just poison 'em." I gasped, loudly, slamming my back against the wall, covering my mouth. Blaze's head snapped to the rabbit den.

"What was that?" The other Boy shouted, chopping the bush away with his sword, revealing where I was hidden. My eyes were widened by horror. I was dead. They would start calling reinforcements, dragging me by my hair to the camp. I would be bludgeoned, strangled, poisoned. Peter would waste no expense punishing me for 'trying to leave'. Blaze's hand wrapped around a root, tearing it out of the way as he crouched beside the opening. The sheer amount of strength that would have taken made me shake with alarm. He could snap my neck without thinking about it.

"It's her," Blaze grinned, waving to me. He glanced over his shoulder at the other Lost Boy. "It's Pan's little plaything. Hey there, girl. Having fun?" I shook my head, pressing my back to the wall, scrabbling for anything to throw. The surface was smooth and barren. I was defenseless, left at the mercy of Peter's lapdogs. My feet scraped against the floor, driving my spine into the wall painfully in an attempt to gain distance. I was trapped. "Go get the others. Have someone get Pan. Tell him we found the Lost Girl in the jungle up by the Mirror Lagoons." The other boy nodded, bolting off to seal my doom.

"Please," I begged, tears pricking the backs of my eyes. "Blaze, please. Don't do this. Let me go. You can't let him have me. He'll murder Alexander and Fox then torture me. You- you _have to _let me go." My nails sunk into the sand, my entire body shook. I was a fish in a barrel. They would murder me slowly, painfully. Blaze's easy smile sent shivers up my spine. He wasn't the innocent Lost Boy he appeared to be.

"Sh, sh, sh. It'll be okay. Pan's not gonna get to you first, girl. You should be more worried about the Boys." He reached into the den. I aimed a swift kick to his hand, smashing it at an angle against the wall. Blaze cursed, shouting in pain as the ache of a broken hand spread to his mind. I shuddered uncontrollably. I couldn't let him near me. Not when I was this weak, when I was trapped. I stared at him, pouring as much venom into my voice as I could muster.

"Stay the hell away from me." I breathed, my jaw clenched. Blaze glowered down at me, unsheathing a large machete. With a violent swing, he sliced into the thicker roots keeping me temporarily out of reach. He had a much burlier build than I did, with broad shoulders and large muscles. Each hack tore away more of the protection, exposing me to his malicious intent. It took only a few well placed chops, then the weapon was dropped to the dirt as he leaned into the entrance, making a grab for me. I shrieked, kicking wildly. One hit with a satisfying crunch, sending blood squirting out of his nose. With a loud bout of cursing, he threw himself into the hole, shaking me roughly. I began to scream at the top of my lungs, knowing none of them would care enough to save me. A brusque slap fell across my cheek.

"You shut the hell up!" Blaze ordered, shaking me harder. With bruising force, he dragged me out of the abandoned hole, tossing me against a tree. I winced, gasping as the wind got knocked out of me. My hand pressed to my ribs, feeling for any that may have broke. The pain may have just been from the impact. Nothing seemed to be split, but I couldn't tell for certain. Coughing hoarsely, I dragged myself to my feet. Blaze glowered at me, his fingers clenching and unclenching. "You know, it ain't fair that Pan gets you all to himself, Princess. _No one is gonna save you_."

I grabbed onto the tree's trunk, goosebumps raising over my entire body. "You're _sick_." I spat, never letting my eyes leave him. "You're a murderer, just like Peter. If you touch me, he'll let the others beat you within an inch of your life and then slit your throat himself." Fear and agony kept me wide awake. I wasn't up to a fight with Blaze. The odds were in his favor; I was barely standing. He was feverish, eyes bloodshot, mouth twitching. He was a rather gruesome sight with blood oozing from his nose and down his face.

"And you're all alone." Blaze sneered. "Pan is just gonna throw you out and get a new toy anyways. You really think he cares?" I stumbled backwards, curling my fingers into fists. Blaze began to move towards me, a swagger to his movements. "He doesn't give a damn if you jump off a cliff, get beaten, or get sold to Hook. The only reason you're still alive after that shit you pulled with Andrew is because Hook wants you now." He moved quickly, slamming my head against the thick tree. His hand covered my mouth, his dark eyes burning with anger. I cried out, screaming as I clawed at his hand with all my might.

On instinct I bit down, hard, tasting blood pool in my mouth as I felt bone under my teeth. His appendage was already broken, but now it was a bloody mess. A low growl of hatred rumbled in the back of his throat as he yanked his hand away, seething. Blaze released my head only to backhand me. I shouted at the top of my lungs, squeezing my eyes shut. Blaze closed a hand around my neck, cutting off my air. "I'll kill you. I can do it and still sleep easy tonight." He promised darkly, his gaze searing my bruising face.

A dangerous voice filled the area, a petrifying cold to it. "Isn't that a coincidence. I can do the same." Peter growled, throwing Blaze off of me. I clutched at my throat, feeling hot, sticky tears spill over my cheeks as I shook, pulling my knees to my chest at the base of the tree. The Lost Boy flew into a tree two yards away, the echoing snap as his ribs splintering making me shudder. My eyes remained tightly closed as I rocked, flinching against the loud shouting of Peter and the wounded Lost Boy. "You do not have the right to touch a hair on her head, unless I say so! You are not to go _near _her, unless ordered!" His voice held all the authority he needed, towering over the groaning form of Blaze. A sharp kick made the teenager yelp in pain. I sniffled, my gaze blurred by the torrent of salty tears.

Blaze curled his arms over his chest protectively. Peter didn't seem to notice, drawing the dagger from his belt with a sharp _snick_. "I can't even be bothered to make a show of this." Peter snarled, kneeling beside him. "Perhaps impaling your head on a spike will teach the others to not touch what is mine." With a thrust, the blade went through the side of Blaze's throat. Yanking it out, drenched to the hilt in blood, Peter stared down at the choking, twitching boy pitilessly. His emerald gaze was distant, even as he wiped the blade on Blaze's shirt. With a blank expression, he held a hand out to me. Peter's voice was quiet, but it sent shivers through me. "You'll come back to camp. I was half-way through interrogating your guards when Nathan came to camp. I'll finish with them, and then decide what to do with you." I stayed rooted to the spot, visibly shaking. I cringed away from him, whimpering against the pain coursing through my body. With a few blinks, Peter crouched down, cocking his head to try and meet my darting eyes.

"I will never let this happen again, Bree. Blaze was a rabid dog. I knew he would snap sooner rather than later. Be glad I got here when I did, before he could overpower you." His voice was a tender whisper, but his eyes were cutting into me. Flashes of my dream returned, making a my lips part as I drew a pained breath. With a soft sigh, Peter pulled me into his arms, scooping me up. I clung to his neck, hiding my face in his chest, shattered. I was quaking harder than I thought humanly possible, feeling the warmth from him seep into my cold limbs, the safety his arms promised. Peter's breathing wasn't even slightly changed, his heartbeat was even. Killing was just another night to him. Even as the faint strains of morning showed in the sky, Peter continued the laborious trek to camp, keeping me close as I drifted in and out, too petrified to sleep, too tired to stay fully conscious.

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**A/N: I really want to keep writing, but I also want to get this out so you guys can know how grateful I am for the sudden spike in views. I really, truly cannot thank you all enough. It is just plain _incredible. _I love each and everyone of you beautiful people. Bluemoon, over and out~**


	17. Chapter 16: A Resident Fairy

**A/N: I rewrote so many parts of this so many times. You wouldn't believe how indecisive a person can be when they've got a spiteful cold. I couldn't find my muse for a week and a half or so, and then I forced myself to sit and finish a large portion of this. I hope it's adequate, and if not, fingers crossed next chapter will be better. Also, I think the website is glitching because now the stats for this story are super low, as in less than they were a week ago, as if it deleted a bunch of people's reads. I dunno, I'm gonna _try_ to not panic. In the mean time: Chapter 16, lovelies!**

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A single shake was all it took to make me flinch out of Peter's arms, tumbling to the dirt painfully. I breathed heavily, coughing the dirt away from my nose and mouth. My numb fingers took a moment to flatten against the ground before levering me up. I winced, feeling the strain of my legs and arms. Everything was sore, tender, and felt like it needed to be scrubbed till it was raw. I had to get the feel his touch off of my skin. His hot breath needed to be blown from my memory. I needed to scrape any sign of him from me, one way or another.

Alexander's cold gaze sought mine, a barely perceptible nod both confirming he was alright and asking if I was simultaneously. My shivering arms wrapped around myself as I gave him a weak nod. Even if I wasn't, Alex didn't need to know. No one did. Fox's face was ghost-white, his body rigid with fear. Peter moved to grab my arm, to guide me to where he wanted. A small yelp of fear resounded in my throat as I jerked away, hunching my shoulders. I shook my head mutely, ignoring his burning gaze. His voice was a quiet hiss in my ear, his grip making tears rim my eyes. "No one else will touch you. Just come with me and stay quiet. Being... assaulted doesn't pardon your crimes, Trinket." My lip trembled as I shied away from his touch, feeling both numb and engulfed in prickling flames.

Lost Boys we passed on the way to the bonfire's circle were going to try to break my ribs, another was going to force himself on me while another cut into my with his knife. Felix's bored, hollow stare made terror rush through me. I needed time to regain my scatter thoughts, to repair my shattered nerves and patch my walls. Everything about them jumped out at me now. They were lonely; they were violent and dirty. They killed mercilessly and followed orders like puppets. Patches of fur on their shoulders, weapons glinting under capes, uniform looks of enjoyment and confusion on their faces. I was nothing to them but entertainment; a way to gain power, to feel in control. The crude weapons they all carried could easily dispatch me. It took seconds to stab one through the head, even less to sever a major artery.

Peter turned me to face the majority of the Lost Boys, Alexander and Fox included. I kept my head high, fixing my blurring stare on the treeline. Every eye was trained on their leader and the ragged accused. With a measuring glance around the clearing, Peter began. "As you all have heard, Trinket persuaded her guards to allow her out of the hut, before traipsing off around the island. One of the parties sent out found her near the Mirror Lagoons. Among this troop was Blaze, who took it upon himself to beat the Lost Girl, and then attempted to take her." Slow as molasses murmurs broke out. I caught whispers of questions. Why was he saying 'Lost Girl'? Why was Blaze not here? What was this all about anyway? Peter kept the corner of his gaze on me, indifferent. Felix quieted the abrupt shouts growing with a loud, barking order of his own, making me inwardly cringe away.

"So where the hell is he?" Alexander yelled, his jaw clenched. One of the Boys guarding him aimed a spear at his chest, keeping him back. His pale blue eyes narrowed in warning at the other Lost Boy, making them lower the weapon slightly. Alex was a respected member of their dysfunctional pack. He was right below Felix on the scale from what I'd heard. Fox cowered behind the braver Boy, making me wonder how this had all happened. When I met him, Alexander was timid, but it took the span of a few days for him to become a warrior, a fighter. Had that been an act? A way to quickly earn my trust? A pang of betrayal lanced my already bleeding heart, joining the volley of splinters already there.

Felix shouted back, sneering. "Like you care? You couldn't kill him unless Pan forced you to. You're too soft!"

The scornful sneer on Felix's face reminded me of something Peter had once said: 'I like to keep my enemies close'. One of the worst tactics in war was to underestimate your enemy. Alexander's eyes rolled flippantly. "You should really be more observant, Felix. Everyone knows you're just Pan's lapdog, so I'd advise you watch your back." His eyes were like twin lakes of ice as he pinned the larger Boy under their scrutiny. Felix grinned invitingly, chuckling. He brushed off Alex's threat, turning back to Peter. Intrigued, Peter smirked, question Felix silently. The unspoken permission was all Felix needed to swing his club off of his shoulder. A fight without permission would mean trouble for both Boys.

There it was: the hold Peter had over all his Lost Boys. They looked to him for direction, for orders. He had swooped in and saved them from whatever horrible past they refused to speak of, therefore they owed him their lives -quite literally in most cases. Felix followed orders better than any soldier I had seen, almost as if he was Peter's personal puppet. Alex was challenging Felix, but Felix stilled looked to Peter for the decision. It was instinct to them to move and breathe upon their King's directions.

A sharp laugh echoed from behind Peter and I, making me nearly jump out of my skin. It was definitely female, with an amused flare swirled around annoyance. "Honestly, Alexander, you should learn to pick and choose your battles." A petite blonde with a strong accent chided, her hazel eyes dancing as they landed on the blonde Lost Boy. "Felix, haven't you learned to play nice yet?" She smiled faintly, one corner of her mouth curling sneakily.

Interrupting any further greetings, Peter cleared his throat. "To what do we owe this pleasure, Tinkerbell?" His smile was false, clearly irritated at her casual alleviation of the brewing tussle. The translucent wings on her back chimed cheerfully as she flashed a feral grin, smoothing the hem of her semi-short, fern green dress. I had always been told that fairies were the most pure beings on earth, their only goal to help others. _This _fairy had no intention to do anything of the sort. Her devious hazel blue gaze sparked as it slid over Felix's protesting and swirling of his club to Peter.

"Oh, I only came to see the show, naturally. I heard this little scrap has been causing trouble." Confident, Tinkerbell to a deep breath, cocking her head and continuing in a conversational tone. Her cold eyes raked over my thin form, leaving me feeling even more ready to vomit. "Strange that you're keeping her, Pan. Isn't she long past her welcome?" The fairy's slender brows arched accusingly, one corner of her mouth still raised in a stifled grin. Peter narrowed his gaze a fraction, warning, giving her an easy smirk.

"What's strange, Tink, is that I never pegged you for the jealous type." With a lazy roll of his shoulders, Peter tilted his head, shaking it at her as if she was a child that had answered incorrectly. "Trinket here is the main event on Neverland currently. Or haven't you heard? Killian is making advances on the island -even as we speak- to try and claim her. He's under the impression he can use her as leverage to get what he wants." Each sentence was filled with distaste. Each phrase was clipped, precise, almost rehearsed. Peter's ego had been dialed to an extreme level as his emerald eyes sliced through Tinkerbell.

The slightly disconcerted fairy quickly masked her confusion, tossing a quick glare at me. Hunched shoulders, messy hair, dirty boots and bruised everything; I hardly looked worthy of all this fuss to the stranger. With a pause for thought, Tink flashed a wide smile at Peter, one so full of teeth and meaning that I felt my skin crawl. "_Under the impression, _Pan? I wonder what gave him that idea..." Her eyes scanned the shifting sea of faces, unceremonious. "I don't see Andrew anywhere. He wouldn't miss an event such as this one if he was _on his deathbed_. Where's your Lost Boy, Pan?" A small snicker sent a flurry of goosebumps across my arms. "Or should I say, _Hook's?_"

Felix shifted into an offensive position, setting off a silent ripple of movement in the throng. Leaning forward a fraction, loose knees, slight crook to his head, hand on his club; anyone oblivious to their natural-born instincts would claim he was relaxed. Every single person in the clearing grew anxious upon the lieutenant's shift. Peter gave a soft chuckle, shaking his head gently. "Oh, Tinkerbell." His laugh was short, harsh. "Do you know where your true loyalties lie? As I recall, _Killian_ was the one who got you in the mess with Titania in the first place. I welcomed you openly, gave you a place on the island, protection. I even brought your **friends** from that **pompous** court along because you were so _miserable." _A sneer contorted his beautiful features, making his look wild. "_Poor Tinkerbell. _All _alone._" Peter began to circle the dainty female, serene, watching her watch him with narrowed eyes. Barely hidden loathing bubbled beneath the surface of her almost-glowing skin. Her small fists clenched as her head swiveled to keep an eye on the Boy-King.

A soft whisper of breeze lifted limp strands of my wavy hair. Leaves vibrated in trees, eager to be torn off and spiraled to the floor. Shimmering clouds of glowing green dust played around Tinkerbell's planted feet from the silent, enraged quivering of her wings. My throat became dry, uncomfortable, I watched with a dazed expression of muted concern. The inhabitants of Neverland were at each others' throats constantly, but that was just the way they liked it. Without any type of authority but Peter, they ran wild, rabid. Driven by anxiety, my teeth tore at my lips, a nasty habit I had developed from years of being told I was unimportant, that my voice grated nerves; I was driven into silence for many years when in my father's company.

Raising her dainty chin, Tinkerbell's pale pink lips twisted into a sickly sweet smile. "I'm not alone," Her head of sandy blonde hair shook a negative. "_But you **are**_." The jab to Peter's ego was laced with poison, just like every word the green-clad pair exchanged. A prickle of arctic air teased my spine, highlighted by the gelid echoing of Peter's laugh. I squeezed shut my heavy lids, forcing a blankness to paint my features as I looked upon the scene. Poor Tinkerbell seemed so confident that she had won, so assured in her victory that she was unfazed by the promised violence in Peter's joyful nature. I prepared to block my ears against the sounds of her wings ripping, of her screams, of blood splattering over me again.

None of which came. Peter was grinning at Tinkerbell placidly, a sparkle of mischief in his eyes. Tink's smile seemed genuine as she nodded to Peter with a relaxed stance. In the blink of an eye, the two seemingly bitter rivals were smiling and nodding as if they knew a great, bountiful secret the others did not. I felt the fine hairs on my arms stand up at the lack of emotion in the clearing. The laughter was crisp, almost rehearsed. It pierced my ears like shards of ice.

"Glad you could make the show." Peter gave a solitary nod to Tinkerbell, waving her towards Felix and Alexander to watch. Obliging, Tink settled on a horizontal log, whispering conspiratorially with Alex; old friends. Peter's eyes roved over me, checking for any new injuries. He thought me fragile, porcelain over an empty shell encased in the simple beauties of wide eyes and curling hair. It shaved at my nerve, making my lip curl irritably. Already the glances of pity and disdain were digging into my patience, even as I shied away from the horde of Lost Boys, vulnerable. Sharp and impossibly fast, Peter nodded to Alexander, gesturing him forward. "You've been loyal since your first hour on Neverland. I do not think you above treachery -a Lost Boy should never be such. I do, however, believe that you are loyal enough to follow orders as you have always done. Andrew was a mistake you warned me of before any else. You became suspicious as quickly as Felix and I."

Shifting, Alexander kept his steady gaze on Peter's face, refusing to appear weak. His voice was a quiet rumble. "You know me, Pan. Neverland is my home, just as much as yours. I wouldn't do anything to harm it. I would never leave. Not once have I given you reason to doubt. Believe me when I say: we didn't know she had left till she tried to warn us off. She told us to run. _We came here_." It was a convincing fib if I ever heard one. Alex was a beautiful liar, able to craft innocence and earnest with the bat of a lash. He was silently asking Peter why this trial was even necessary; the King knew it.

With a dip of his head, Peter smirked. "That you did." He clapped Alexander's shoulder, welcoming. "You've proven your case quite convincingly. I expect you to be monitoring Trinket when Felix and myself are unable. As for Fox..." I glanced at the practically quaking Lost Boy. He was thin, looking rather pale in his frightened state. The hangman's ax was dangling over his head, perilously close to dropping. "He's as innocent as a Lost Boy can get at his age." Peter grimaced slightly. "A bit of training would do him some good, I'd wager." Alex nodded, holding his hands out for Peter to cut free. The gleaming dagger sliced the bonds cleanly, not leaving so much as a scratch on Alexander's pale wrists. Released, he sawed Fox's ropes as well, standing beside Felix with a sly smirk, enjoying rubbing the older Boy the wrong way.

Tinkerbell crossed her legs, leaning her chin in her hand out of boredom. "What about the little Lost Girl, Pan? I came to see some action." She sighed, rolling her eyes at the calm proceedings. Felix stared at her petite, bent figure from the corner of his vision, peering around the edge of his hood. A look of fury mingled with confusion lit his eyes, pursing his lips. The fairy got to the Lieutenant; she dug under his skin by breathing.

I cleared my throat, feeling the rasp of soreness in the back of it all. "I'm seventeen, thank you." I snapped, slowly feeling my bite return to me. Reality had finally begin to sink in; Blaze was _dead_. His blood caked the forest floor outside the abandoned rabbit den. I may have reasonable cause to fear the rest of Neverland's population, but all I needed was my mother's blade and I would once again become a formidable opponent. Tinkerbell scoffed, rising to her feet as she dusted off her skirts.

"Right, my most sincere regrets, _your majesty." _She snorted. "You aren't in the Enchanted Realms anymore, sweetness. _You _are a distraction to be thrown out the very _second_ you become inconvenient." Her scathing tone scraped at my already waning courage. Snide, Tinkerbell sauntered closer, circling me with her light hazel eyes. "Look at you. Sniveling because you got roughed up. I must confess, I'm quite astonished you've lasted this long. If you think a month on Neverland is bad, you'll be begging for death by the end of the next week. The island attacked your system because you don't belong; it's going to do it again. You'd best believe I'll be there to watch." Rapid-fire, her words cut into me. With precision movements, she sunk her hand through my chest, past bone, flesh, muscle, cartilage. Ruthless, her fingers squeezed my heart inside my chest, nearly choking me as I gasped for breath, panicking. The organ thundered in my chest, screaming at how utterly, horrifically _**wrong **_it felt.

Peter's voice yelled, demanded, that the smiling fairy release me. I felt sick, cold. My heartbeat was too fast to be normal, too much a terrified flit in Tinkerbell's hand to be safe. With a small snicker at my queasy face, her fingers receded from my chest, allowing the pounding of blood in my ears to lessen. I had almost been murdered because I stated a fact. Tinkerbell had almost torn my heart out because she didn't like me. The severity of the action threatened to bowl my over. High-pitched ringing blurred my senses as I steadied myself, watching Peter's raging shove against Tinkerbell's shoulder. Slowly, leaking, my hearing returned. "-I will _personally _shred your wings off your body. She is _mine, _Tink." Peter seethed, his words forced out from between clenched teeth. Livid energy lit his face, glittered mercilessly in his eyes. "Nobody gets to take that heart but _me._ She is _mine _to keep." Peter snarled, each word punctuated by his glowering gaze and arched brows. It was a child shouting at another for taking their toy without asking. A sibling pummeling the other because they 'borrowed' an item.

Indignant, irate, Tinkerbell swiped Peter's hand from her shoulder. "Why don't you get rid of her then?! She isn't worth it, Pan! All she has done is cause an uproar! The Tribe is _furious_. Storms are littering their campsite, nights are dragging on, sun is sparse. The food is scarce. Your _toy_ is throwing the island off-balance, Pan! You damn well better fix it, before _I do it myself._" Tinkerbell hissed with a withering glace at me. Her wings shook behind her as she rose, disappearing in the blink of an eye. Felix's head tilted back slightly, watching her leave. Alexander gripped his bow tightly, knuckles white. An arrow hung from his fingertips, already drawn. He had been ready to shoot the fairy in the back to save me.

Peter cut a lethal stare to every Lost Boy in the clearing, daring them to make a peep. His voice held no room for discussion; despot. "Trinket will be kept under guard till I say otherwise," He barked, anger rippling off every pore. "Alexander, Jack, Slightly. You three will guard her cage in rotations. Bring her food and water, any other requests must go through me first. If Hook wants her, we aren't going to make it easy."

Felix's grin was mirrored on several faces. "We're going on an adventure today at high noon, Boys." Peter smirked, scanning his eager troops. "Sharpen your staffs, coat your arrows. Felix, you and Jack will escort Trinket to her cage. Once you're done, Felix, come find me. We'll discuss strategies with Nibs." I felt the color leak from my face as the broad-shouldered Lost Boy took hold of my bicep. A Boy who I assumed was Jack covered my head with a scratchy burlap sack, tying my wrists quickly.

Felix chuckled, "You aren't doing it right."

A short, adolescent laugh echoed him. "I know how to tie an overhand knot, Felix. Let's go, I don't want to miss out on much. It better be Slightly's turn fast." A push from behind started me off on the stumbling journey.

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**A/N: Taaaa daaaa! Purty new chapter. Once again, I want to thank my wonderful readers. I hope this story makes you all as happy as it makes me. Thank you all so much for your continuous support in this crazy journey. You are all happily wonderful, Bluemoon, over and out~**


	18. Chapter 17: A Caged Bird

**A/N: Was anyone else extremely inconvenienced by the login glitch? The day I have enough time to update during the week, it won't let me in. *sigh* But at least everything is running smoothly again! I want to give a HUGE thank you to everyone who followed/favorited/reviewed this story. You all are the reason it is still going! Onto Chapter 17!**

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Disoriented, I tried my best to stay aware of the directions we took. If I could remember the way from camp, I could find my way back and get mother's dagger. I could finally stop being a useless doll Peter tossed around on a whim. Felix hummed a soft tune as we marched. It danced at the edge of my mind, a little childhood ditty that made me think of a single file line. It irritated me, consuming my focus till I realized we'd taken two turns and I still hadn't the faintest idea what the song was. Mentally cursing Felix's trickery, I felt a push send me to my knees.

"In you go, Bree." Felix sighed, pausing long enough to yank the burlap sack off my head. He swung the bamboo door shut, twisting a length of rope around a bar; sliding it through a hollowed stick to lock me in the newest hell Peter had devised. Vexed, I tilted my face against the bars, staring at the pair of gangly Boys with as blank a face as I could muster. Jack averted his gaze, losing courage now that I could stare back.

He was a thin Boy, but his cheeks were streaked in faded red and black. A shock of red hair curled around the nape of his neck and behind his ears. Eyes the color of ghostly blue steel glared at the forest floor. He didn't look much like Freddie Davies, but I had to hope he was half as kind as his could-be brother.

My voice was fiercer than Felix anticipated, a clear antonym for my expression. If I had gotten the way to camp wrong, I needed to at least know what for. "What was the song?" The pale Lost Boy smiled, drawing away from the cage. My fingers went around the bars in a nervous jolt as if I could pull myself through. "Damn it, Felix! What was it?" I hissed. Jack swung around so quickly I nearly missed it, swatting my knuckles with the edge of his staff. Wincing, I withdrew my hands. Peter had his Boys taught well. I could probably shake the cage apart if I tried hard enough; a rope brushed the top of my head if I sat straight. they planned on leaving me hanging; escape would be much harder if I had to jump.

Felix grinned, leaning down beside the bamboo contraption I was encased in. "_Following The Leader, __the leader, the leader. We're following the leader, where ever he may go." _He crooned, almost an incantation, leaving Jack and me alone in the tiny path. With a deep sigh, I sagged against the back of the cage, ignoring the bars digging into my back for the time being. Jack stood with his back to the cage, posture rigid, back stiff. He looked like a soldier; a thirteen-year-old soldier, but one capable of killing. I wondered if this was the same Jack tiny little Freddie had mentioned.

"Are you Freddie's brother?" I asked politely, waiting patiently. After he continued to ignore me, I tried again. "Is Freddie your brother? The little one?" Huffing in annoyance at his blatant rudeness, I kicked the cage door lightly; Jack nearly leapt out of his skin.

Dark brown eyes stretched wide, face blank, he growled three words, "Don't do that." Narrowing my eyes, I kicked the cage again, ignoring the stab of pain working up from my heel. Baring his teeth in a snarl, he poked at me with his staff. "Stop it." I rubbed my side, glaring at him. Too tired to bother with proving my point, I curled up on the floor of the cage, shifting to lay on my back. The bars drew lines across my torso and arms, dappling my pale skin in further marks of red and purple. The day drifted slowly, and by the time Jack had hauled my cage up high enough to make jumping dangerous, I was already dozing.

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I remained stationary for a day. No food had come yet, nor water. I was parched, tired, and rumpled. Jack was continuing his quest of ignoring me, severing my patience with each stone-walled hour of unbearable silence. It didn't take more than half of the second morning for Jack to order Slightly's presence. His face was beet red, steam practically billowing from his ears. "I don't care if you don't think it's your turn! I say it is, so it is!"

"Y-you aren't Pan! You can't tell me what to do!" The smaller voice yelped. I stared at the small shafts of sunlight leaking through the canopy. It always felt drafty this far to the north of camp. The island remained shivering around the path of foliage I was slung over.

A loud thud signaled that Jack had pushed the other Boy. A soft sniveling of fear reached my ears, clenching my fists. Jack Davies was a cruel Lost Boy. He was being groomed to act like Felix, like Peter. "You'll do what I tell you! Stop whining and get to your post!" He snapped, storming off.

Sunset came quickly, shadowing what I could see of Slightly. His cloak hid what physical descriptions the shadows didn't. Already I pitied the poor Boy.

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"Pst... Hey!" A light tapping on the bamboo made the cage sway as I shuffled into an awkward, cramped yet technically-upright position. A young Lost Boy with bright, dark grey eyes, a wide, cheeky smile, and curly, sandy-blonde hair waved from a few feet below my dangerous perch. I was a bird unable to fly, locked away for amusement, but he smiled. His perpetual cheerfulness was an uncommon trait among Lost Boys. "I brought you some breakfast, Bree!" He gestured to a tray of carved wood floating near my cage door. Confused, I leaned closer to the door.

"Thank you... Slightly, isn't it?" I murmured, reaching my thinning arms through experimentally. I couldn't reach the food still, let alone get it back through the bars. "Do you think you could, perhaps, open the door?" Fear flickered across his face, but he nodded, moving in his almost waddling way towards the rope. A knot formed in my gut as I realized the only thing between me and a sudden, painful, crashing death, was a rope woven by Lost Boys. Any moment it could snap and I would die. Slightly could lose his grip and I would be impaled by broken bamboo. As the stout Boy lowered me inch-by-inch, I reasoned that Peter would've thought of this and enchanted the cage. It would've been a terrible inconvenience to him if my fears became real, therefore he would've protected it somehow. At least, that's what I told myself while Slightly fumbled with the lock. Smiling at me when it opened, he waved for the tray to come down. A brief tittering confused me as I stretched my sore muscles. Tiny lights fluttered out from under the tray, one flying close to my face and waving. "A-are those-?

Slightly grinned, sitting down in across from me, setting his staff aside. "Forest nymphs, actually. Much nicer in my opinion. There's loads of spirits like them on Neverland, you just don't always see them as often." Slightly took a large bite of the apple he carried with him, grinning goofily. I picked at the links of sausage on the wooden plate cautiously, taking a bite of the meat. Encouraged by the flavor, I began to eat more.

Taking a gulp of the water in a coconut shell, I aimed for useful conversation. "Slightly, can you tell me what Tink meant by 'The Tribe'?"

The young Boy nodded cheerfully, his voice chipper. "Injuns! They tend to stay on their side of the island though. I haven't seen much of 'em. Winter Woods splits the island, ya see? So they usually don't cross it- they think it's too dangerous. Pan told us to stay clear of it, so I guess it must be. Felix told us this awful story about a Lost Boy who went in there..." He paused solemnly, casting his gaze around to ensure we were truly alone. The nymphs settled about, leaning forward eagerly. "And no one's seen him since. He was here a few... I guess it would be a couple years ago, maybe seven in your time." I froze, forcing my bite of egg down.

_Luke_.

Slightly chattered on obliviously, finishing his apple down to the core. "Anyways, Pan warns us to never go in there. He says bad stuff happens in there all the time." Slightly shrugged, content to have blind faith in his leader. I took a deep breath, forcing a smile and polite nod. Slightly was overall a very calming presence; I would hate to ruin his outlook by bringing to light Peter's heinous deeds. A strange look overcame the youthful Lost Boy, and he scurried to his feet. "Quick!" Slightly hissed, ushering me back into the cramped cage. "Quick, quick, hurry! Get in!" Surprised, I complied quickly, clutching the sides as I was jerkily raised. Slightly tied off the rope in a rush, scampering to stand in his place below my cage just as a shock of jet-black hair materialized.

Alex's intelligent eyes scoped the path with an amused gleam; he knew I had been out. "Slightly, Bree." He nodded to us each in turn. "Why don't you go find Curly, I heard he was looking for you. Something about a rabbit?" He smiled conspiratorially, gesturing over his shoulder for Slightly to head off. The smaller Boy grinned, waving to me before dashing off to meet his friend. Alexander tilted his head back, smirking. "You've really done it this time, Bree."

I scoffed lightly, resting my forehead against the bars. "I haven't done it this wonderfully before?"

Alex smirked at the sarcasm in my voice, sharpening one end of each staff he carried. "I think this is your best so far. Pan isn't happy w-"

"Is he _ever _happy?" I sighed, digging a groove in the closest bamboo bar with my nail. Alexander laughed lightly, shrugging. "How long do I have to stay here? Unbelievable as it is, I think I preferred running everyday to this."

Shifting uncomfortably, my friend cleared his throat, mumbling, "I'm not privy to that information. Pan hasn't even told Felix. I wish I could help, Bree, but it's too dangerous." I swallowed my disappointment. Of course I couldn't ask him to risk his neck again for me. If Peter even _suspected _Alexander was involved he would kill him on the spot, no questions asked. Peter wouldn't be made a fool twice by clever Lost Boys. Even if Alex still held hate for Peter's murder of his sister, he couldn't afford to disobey him.

I took a deep breath, nodding. "I'm sorry, Alex." I whispered, barely a breath. A shiver hit him, hunching his shoulders.

"That isn't a good thing to say this close to Winter Woods, Bree. You'll wake something up." His voice was raspy, worried. I watched attentively as he sharpened each stick of wood, allowing the steady motions of his work to soothe me. Each slice of his blade was fervent, detached.

Silence stretched uncomfortably tight around us, strangling the apologies that threatened to spill off my tongue. Words of comfort weren't welcome on Neverland. Finally, I managed to force out a breathless, "Okay." And that was the end of our conversation. As the day dragged on Nymphs flickered in my peripheral vision, gleefully free. The sun dredged across the sky without lunch or dinner, but I didn't mind. Alexander had been delivered a new bundle of sticks to sharpen what I assumed to be a few hours past noon, and once he was halfway through the sun began to sink. I shifted awkwardly, not wanting a repeat of the past mornings where I woke covered in painful lines. Sensing my distress, he began to hum softly, a soothing tune that was the wisp of a lullaby. It was choppy, but somehow managed to relax me enough for sleep to take over. I wasn't certain what the future held, but I knew I could depend on Alex. He would always be there... Right?

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**A/N: Again, I'm sorry this has taken so long to update, but I hardly get a moment to rest with school. Life's chaotic, and I know that isn't an excuse, but I'm trying to update monthly at least, I promise! This is mostly a filler chapter because forcing a chapter doesn't end well, and... Well, you can probably tell this isn't my best. I'm really, truly sorry. I hope it's enough to tide everyone over till next chapter. I love each and every one of my fabulous readers and I cannot thank you all enough. Bluemoon, over and out~**


	19. Chapter 18: The Jolly Roger

**A/N: Yay, finally another chapter! I want to thank everyone again for fallowing this story and/or adding it to their favorites. Remember, reviews are like magic; they fuel the island called my muse. Any constructive criticisms, comments, concerns... just saying hi...? I would really appreciate them! Also, this chapter is the longest yet to make up for the wait! Onto Chapter 18, lovelies!**

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I felt the stifling heat creep along my skin, flushing my cheeks and urging perspiration to form on my brow and torso. A week by my vague counting of the sunsets had passed, and the conditions under which I was kept slowly grew more strict, uniform. Meals were brought at least twice daily, and I was allowed to stretch each morning while two guards (usually Alexander and Slightly) were present. The chill surrounding the Northern end of the island had settled into my bones, but this ferocious heat was decidedly not welcome.

Whimpering, I curled tight in my sleep, searching the deep recesses of my dream for the cold I had grown accustomed to. Time had begun to bleed; I was aware of it seeming to pass (even though time stood still) but I couldn't seem to grasp onto specifics like hours or days any longer. Everything was a meaningless blur, and that was one of my more dangerous realizations. If I lost my meaning, I would lose my will. Losing my will meant becoming worthless, which translated to _dead _in Neverland.

Scorched, I yelped, my eyes snapping open as the heat became insufferable. I was wide awake, alert, for the first time in what must have been a week. The pain dancing across the back of my hand lit stars brighter than the night sky in my vision. The smell of singed hair and smoke clogged my nose; a sharp round of coughs choking me. Panicked, I searched the ground below for my guard only to find the area barren, save for a wave of bright orange and scarlet flames lapping at the green foliage. Ash floated like grey snow, clinging to the rope of my cage- the only thing keeping me from being consumed entirely by the inferno below was slowing being eaten away. A shriek of desperation pealed from my mouth, sounded muffled and weak to my own ears compared to the roaring stampede of showering embers.

"Help! Somebody, please, help me!" I screamed at the top of my rapidly smoke-filled lungs. My nose burned with the ferocity of the scent; the thick, white smoke of a brush fire clouding the air. Surely Neverland wasn't so expansive no one had seen? My stream of shouts were cut short by a bout of harsh coughing. Aching, sweating tremendously from the hellish temperature, I covered my face with the neckline of my shirt. Tears streamed from my reddened eyes as I continued to holler as loudly as I could.

Eager flickers of the orange-red wave scampered over ferns and fallen branches, stretching dangerously close to the rope suspending me in midair. Panicked, I stabbed my fingers around the bars, narrowing my eyes against a billow of spiteful fumes while attempting to unravel the lock. I had seen it closed so often that I should've been able to free myself easily, but the lock wasn't the one I was used to staring at. It was thick, metal, scalding to touch, and welded to several bars. Now tears of fear joined the torrent proving the amount of irritation my eyes were subject to. There wasn't a way to escape, but that wasn't half as important as the fact that I had been plopped in the middle of a trap like a sitting duck. I would fall into the flames and be burned alive or impaled by a broken piece of bamboo. My leg would break, my spine would snap, I would be breathless as the agony ate me up, leaving nothing but a molten puddle where my ring had been and a tattered strip of dark green shirt buried beneath the ashes of a Trinket who Peter Pan loved to torture and Tinkerbell loathed.

My face crumpled into a desperate sob, my hair as dark as the sky curtaining my face -buried into my knees and arms. I was done for. A sick thought made bile rise in my throat: what if Peter planned this? What if I had become so mundane and boring that he no longer cared if Hook or Tinkerbell or the Indians got their hands on me? What if Peter was done with me, craftily making it so my last thoughts were bound to be filled with his brief smiles and emerald eyes?

I felt my chest heave with a breath too painful to finish. I would die alone, haunted by a demon Boy-King. My face was flushed, if not from the white-hot temperatures then from utter embarrassment and self-hate. I was pathetic. Peter had kidnapped and tormented and murdered countless hundreds of thousands of girls, each fading from his memory the second he found a new toy. I was one of the countless forgotten, I wasn't anything special.

Startled, I lurched sideways when a popping sound above me was accompanied by the cage wobbling. Terror-filled, tear stained eyes found the tiny ember latched onto the rope as it was slung over a lit branch. "No," I begged quietly. "No, please, no!" My fingers snarled in my hair as I clutched my head protectively, bracing myself for the jarring fall. With a loud snap (my stomach lodged in my already stinging throat) the carefully braided rope broke, sending me plummeting down the two and a half yards to the burning ground.

The minimal oxygen I had left in a hoarse gasp as I fell backwards, breaking the back wall of the cell. Coughing with all my strength, I fought to catch a single, ragged breath. Pain blossomed over my entire body. My arm, my back, my leg, my feet, my head, my tailbone -I was seeing stars now more than ever. The pressure of the fall squeezed my lungs, temporarily pulverizing my ability to focus. I could feel the flames becoming aware of the new kindling dropped in their midst, testing the bamboo, tasting the dirt and grass close to my inanimate form. Ash dusted my hair like the frosty gifts of winter had in my home, forming burning patches on my exposed skin. Forcing air into myself once more, I struggled to my knees.

My arms shook, my head spun, and the pain was debilitating to say the least. I barely crawled a few paces from the quickly consumed bamboo before my arm buckled suddenly, flinging me into a blistering patch of embers where a bush had been. A scream of agony at the sweltering mark being made on my collarbone and shoulder echoed, leaving me fuming. Clenching my jaw, I rolled to the side, fighting off further tears. I had to rescue myself from this mess if no one else would.

Hadn't my mother once murmured to me the teachings of the world? Wasn't I raised to stand on my own two feet? When had I become dependent on rescuers and magic Boys to swoop in and save the day? As if conjured up by the severity of my situation, a fierce, roaring anger settled in my gut. It fueled my stubbornness, encouraged me to find my unsteady footing. I had been left to die, tossed aside by the Lost Boys and my father. I was never expected to survive, but I knew with glaring resolve I would - if only to spite those who doubted me. With my goal in mind, I stumbled towards a lesser engulfed patch of wood. I couldn't outsmart fire; I couldn't hide from it either. That left only one option -the same option I found myself choosing more and more: run.

Clutching my red-mottled arm to my chest, I staggered away from the smoke. A patch of violent purple had appeared along my spine from the fall, my shirt was singed through in spots, and I quite possibly had a broken rib -never mind numerous burns. Breathing was painful, but necessary. My blurring eyes scanned the path in front of me, calculating where and when to step to avoid the flames. I moved at a fleeting pace, my movements reminiscent of a wounded animal in the way I flinched at every loud crack of the air.

A sharp pang filled my head, white noise screeching in my ears. Vulnerable, I cradled my head, squeezing my eyes shut tight. A raw gasp tumbled from my mouth. Reaching out blindly with my left hand, I felt for the tree at the edge of the path, to use as a guide. My hand ghosted through air then scratched bark. A pattern formed as I blundered away from the heat at my back: space, bark, space, bark. Keeping my eyes closed against the cacophony of sound would lessen the pain, instinct claimed. The sound reminded me of scraping metal on metal, of children screaming, of the noise that fills your room in the night when all is silent.

Cautious, my foot shuffled forward a pace only to be rewarded by the creaking whine of a tree falling in my path. Wincing, I fell onto my splotched back, cracking my eyes a fraction of an inch to see the obstacle. Flames danced gleefully on the dry wood, curling the leaves in their mouths before crushing them. A hushed curse hurtled from my mouth. Turning sharply to the left, I skittered past a patch of embers, looping around the tree quickly. My right hand shot out to feel for the sturdy trunks, the burn on my palm sending shooting discomfort up the limb. When I fell the noise ceased, retreating to join the arsenal of danger being catapulted in my direction. The wildfire still cackled all around me, but it was thinning as it spread. Deciding to test the resiliency of my lungs, I gave a vehement holler. "Can anyone hear me? I need help!" I continued to stagger, perking my ears for any response at all.

The trees whistled softly in the wind even as they deteriorated. A gentle tune wafted on the breeze, requesting my attention. Eager for any hope of living to see the morning, I broke into a run, chasing the song as it twirled and spun away. Oddly enough, it never occurred to me to question _where_ the source of it was, or better yet _who _was making the music. Was it friend or foe? Did I have a friend on this godforsaken spit of land anymore? "Hello?" I coughed through the haze coating my world, my throat aching and my voice a broken rasp. "Who's there? Please, I need a doctor!" I called, my voice as loud as it could go.

The music stopped as if offended that I would suggest such a thing. A supple, jagged voice whispered in my ear; a single word that summed up my current standing on the island with such veracity that it was laughable. "_Weak._" She hissed, sounding like hatred, jealousy, anger, and determination all boiled into one deadly soup of destruction. My face pinched in worry, refusing to turn around and fight. The white noise was slowly returning, coddling the migraine I was developing and cooing at it. Even though I had found my way out of the flames, I was still clearly in danger. The smoke was thickening, and the heat behind me was growing.

I swallowed thickly, conscious of the labored way I was breathing, haggard and shallow. I edged forward an inch, a foot, a yard; testing the ground before I moved. The sting from the smoke was in my eyes, making them water profusely. I couldn't afford to stop, but I was bone-tired and toasted more than the baker's goods. I breathed a sigh of relief when I heard a shout in the distance. My name was echoing back to me in a familiar, distressed voice. The blessed oxygen hadn't even occupied my airways for half a second when I was wrapped in arms much stronger than my own that squeezed. Lifted in the air, I kicked, wriggling. "Alex! Al-" I screamed, gagging on the strip of cloth being tied behind my head. I heard the forest pause, waiting for the return call of my name.

The burly figure behind me snarled in my ear, their words slurred faintly as if they were constantly inebriated. "The Cap'n's wishin' ta see ya, dahlin'. You'se gonna come real quiet like, an I'll let ya pre'y li'l frien' o'er there live ta tell that _Peter Pan_ that ya got eaten up by th' fairy's fi'ah." Panting from exhaustion, I stilled in the man's arms. Sniffling quietly, I shut my gaze to the burning world, resigned. Alexander called my name hopefully, sounding like a lost songbird. Voices muttered to one another in the distance, and then Alex shouted once more, strain evident in his words. He swore to find me, that they were close, that everything would be okay, that Shadow was looking in the skies, that I had to stay where I was. The pirate dragged me away, and I couldn't find the will to fight. He could have twenty men waiting to murder the search party. "Grab 'er legs, Weasel." The muscled, sweaty man grumbled to a slimmer companion who complied.

Trees gave way to sand, gave way to water, became a canoe. The skinny, pale, rodent looking man with a greasy complexion knotted rope around my wrists, stuttering apologies and warnings about the crewmen under his breath. I stared at the shore with a blank mask, despair darkening my mind. With a final, pitying glance at me, the man tossed an infernal burlap sack over my head. "Jus' so's ya can't go yappin where we are if ya get away, miss." He mumbled, a few more apologies scattered throughout. The swaying of the boat rocked me to sleep, slumping against myself on the bench.

* * *

"Wake up, miss. Miss, ya should'n fall 'sleep like that. I'd ain't safe. Nod all sharks be swimmin' in tha' water, miss." I couldn't see, but the shaking of his hands and the overly polite mannerisms told me it was the man who tied me up. "W-we, uh, we're 'bout ta board tha' ship, miss. I'm gonna take the bag off. M'sorry, miss." The sunlight pierced my lids as I jerked backwards, blinking rapidly. The entire canoe reached forward, all of them glaring daggers at me except for Weasel. The beefy man who first grabbed me bared his teeth in another snarl.

"You ain't swimm'n with the fishes jus' yet, dahlin'. The Cap'n still wants ta see ya." Clambering up the ladder fastened to the side of the boat, the man reached down as another crew member lifted me. Protesting (loudly), I kicked the man who was raising me up square in the jaw. Slipping, slipping, and then my biceps were being crushed in hands so large they could be cannonballs. Growling profanities, the barrel-chested, olive-skinned man tossed me onto the deck of a massive ship akin to those in the royal navy.

I wheezed, my eyes shutting so tight they hurt as I took steady, shallow breaths. The type of soreness I felt was deeper than muscle; it invaded my very marrow. A bumbling, stuttering, rotund man clad in blue and white stripes and a red stocking cap fluttered his hands about. I wondered dazedly if he was having a nervous fit of sorts. "N-n-now, Gunner, that's no way t-to treat a l-lady." He scolded, giving me a warm smile. "Evening, Miss Bree. The Cap'n is in his q-quarters below decks. I'll jus' let him know that you've arrived, shall I?" With a cheery nod, the man disappeared down a set of stairs. Struggling to my feet, I narrowed my eyes at the man called 'Gunner'. He snorted at me, meandering off.

Weasel scrambled aboard, looking hassled. "That's Smee, the Cap'n's second in command, as it were. Him what's called Gunner is also known as tha 'Black Pirate'. No one knows what him's christian name is, but none's gonna be askin, either -'specially them what's heard his stories. I'm Weasel, an I'd like ta be tha first ta _o-_fficially welcome ya ta tha _Jolly Roger, _miss." Weasel clasped his hands in front of him, looking like an overly-eager child.

I took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "Thank you, Weasel. I promise I mean no disrespect when I say I wish I wasn't here." I smiled back awkwardly. Weasel nodded, waving it off.

"I wish ya wasn't, too, miss." He agreed. "Idn't safe for a defenseless lady on tha seas." Smee skittered back up the stairs following the noise of a smashing bottle. Weasel gave me a quick bow and hurried towards a mop and bucket.

Flustered, Smee gestured for me to descend the staircase. "He's in a bit of a mood, so it's best to jus' nod and listen, Miss Bree. He'll let ya know if he wants ya talkin'." I dipped my head in thanks, unsure why I was being compliant when I had been kidnapped by ruffians. Perhaps it was my vain hope of a way home that stirred when I felt the sea rocking beneath my feet. I had spent my time on the water, just as my mother had when she was a child on her father's small sailboat.

Two tall men with large, curving swords strapped to their belts stepped aside after eyeing me curiously, allowing me passage to the Captain's Quarters. My first impression was the strong smell of various alcohols and liquors. Remnants of a mostly-empty bottle crunched under my boots, signalling my presence. A man slightly taller than Pan but shorter than Felix stared out a window full of glass squares, ignoring me. His hair was a dark brown, but not as dark as Alexander's; it fluffed up slightly in the front, trimmed neatly everywhere else. He wore a black leather jacket that went past his hips, hidden behind a large mahogany desk. A voice that reminded me of crisp air and dangerous adventure rumbled from his mouth that was surrounded by a 5 o'clock shadow. "So, you're the girl the island is positively mad about." I kept silent, remembering Smee's warning. Hook straightened, turning to study me. "How long have you been stuck here, love?" I bristled slightly at the endearment, but held up my wrists.

"Long enough that this is becoming commonplace." That earned me a breezy, hollow chuckle. His eyes were a sky blue, sparkling with age-old pain. Waving for me to come closer, the stranger walked to the front of his desk. A flash of silver caught my eye, surprising me. No one mentioned that Hook actually had a_ hook for a hand._ I reminded myself to ask about it later -if I was still alive by then. My side and back were throbbing.

Reaching forward slowly so as not to startle me, he sawed through the bonds in one clean slice. "You look terrible. Even if he is a bloody demon, Pan doesn't usually burn the girls he brings..." He trailed off, a silent invitation for me to spill anything and everything. I wanted to demand to know why he hadn't done anything about the other girls if he knew.

Blinking a few times to calm my ire, I sat in a plush chair. "It wasn't actually him. It was Tinkerbell, mostly. At least, I'm almost positive it was her. I was in a cage and someone lit a brush fire around me. The rope burned through, I fell. End of story." Hook tilted his head curiously, grabbing a bottle of amber liquid as he turned and plopped in his seat.

He stared a moment too long before smiling. "Interesting," Killian stabbed the cork, yanking it out and tossing it aside as he took a sip. My nose wrinkled at the strong odor. "Tinkerbell isn't normally the jealous type either... You've created quite a mess of things here, love. Pan doesn't like messes, neither do I. So," I tensed, ready to bolt, clenching my fists as he leaned forward. "Here's my proposition. Help me, and I'll help you."

I glared at him distrustfully. "What do you want? I'm not much use to you."

The charming man leaned back in his chair, grinning. "Oh, but you are, Bree. You see, Pan will be wanting you back, _badly_. And you don't want to go back, correct?" I hesitated, nodding slowly. I couldn't really answer that question. "So, if I hide you from the demon, you tell me a few secrets of his: where the camp is, for example. My men sneak in and do what they do best, and we get to leave this land forever. We can go about our own businesses. Sound fair?" I bit my lip, soaking up the information, weighing my options.

I could go home- but to what? I had lived adventures here that people only _dreamed _of in the village. My father was probably on the streets since I'd left. We'd have no home, no job... I could possibly stay with Killian Jones and become a pirate myself. The option wasn't very appealing, but it had merit enough.

Or...

I stayed on the island, make an enemy of a very large band of riffraffs, and continue the horrible cycle set in place by the Neverlanders. I could quite possibly die. I could be tortured by Tinkerbell and Peter... I could have adventures that nothing else compared to. I could train with my friends. I could try to change Peter for the better.

I'd wanted to leave since the moment I felt the sea-breeze on my face. Why was it that now, when I had the opportunity of a lifetime, I couldn't be smart and take it? I should've been leaping for joy at the thought of finally going home. I shouldn't be even considering staying here! What was wrong with me?

Hook leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he studied my face. "My men can protect you, Bree. You'll never have to see him again. If he hasn't taken your pride yet, he'll do it soon. You're the only girl I've known to last this long. He's waiting for something. It's in your best interests to leave." I felt myself listening intently. He was right, of course. It was all a matter of time and timing. A nagging feeling in my gut said I'd never be safe if Peter lived. A screaming voice in my heart said I'd never be the same if I left. My head said I was hopeless either way. I knew I ought to hate him with a fury that burned brighter than a thousand suns for what all Peter had done to me; for what he did to Luke. "Think about it. This way we both get what we want; a way home."

I glanced up from the desktop, "I can't be safe if he's alive." There it was again. I hadn't said Peter's name once this entire conversation, had I? "I don't have anything to go home to, either." The pirate before me took a deep inhale of the faintly salty air that came in through the window, corralling his thoughts.

"Well, you could make a fine life as a bar wench..." He smiled at my indignant huff. "Or, you could, quite possibly, become a pirate and join my crew. If you promise not to give me any trouble, that is. We could be gone as soon as tomorrow at sundown." I felt the beginnings of a smile start at the corner of my mouth just as the sea began to turn against the boat. Hook didn't pause long enough to explain. He drew a long broadsword from its scabbard at his side, darting up the stairs with a quick order to stay here and stay hidden. I didn't waste any time. If Peter thought I had come willingly he'd slay me on the deck of the boat for show. I crawled behind the desk, closing the window with a slam.

Hugging my knees to my chest was another cause for ache, but I couldn't force myself to move. The sky had become gray and heavy with clouds. Felix said it hadn't rained, he never said it hadn't stormed. The clouds were thick and rolling. The inside of Hook's quarters were lit by a bone-rattling growl and crash of sudden, faintly green light. If the sky was any indicator of Peter's rage, I would be dead or dying by the time this was all over. A soft round of thumps signaled that the Lost Boys had come aboard. Shouts broke out above decks, and just like that, the world was not burning, but shattered.

* * *

**A/N: I worked a good long while on this chapter, and I'm pretty proud of how it turned out. The 'Black Pirate' isn't something I made up, he's actually a pirate from Hook's crew in one of the many _Peter Pan _adaptations_. _He's described only as a very large man with 'several names that terrify children'. Smee is more of a mix of Disney's Smee from the animated movie in this and then a bit of just randomness. I haven't seen many of his scenes in OUAT, so I apologize if he's out of character.**

**The score for this chapter is actually from OUAT! The first is "Burn the Witch" (laughing inside because of the irony) and after the line break it's "This Boy Will Be Your Undoing". Both are by Mark Isham. :)**

**I had a bit of this written almost a month ago, but I never sat down to finish it due to a crap ton of drama that decided to turn up. Thankfully, said drama is (almost) over -I hope that didn't jinx it... Thank you to everyone for their support, this story isn't possible without you all! Bluemoon, over and out~**


	20. Chapter 19: Payment For Thievery

**A/N: WiFi apparently hates me with a burning passion. We had a bad glitch at my house, but I ****_finally_**** got internet back on my laptop (First World Problems, I know, I know). I'm so excited for this chapter, and I really hope it lives up to everyone's expectations! Without further ado, onto Chapter Nineteen!**

* * *

Waves of pain were slowly flowing under my skin, piercing at a particular spot on my rib cage. I could feel the pinpricks of hurt with every sharp toss the sea threw at the _Jolly Roger_. Air was rasping in and out of my throat like sandpaper. I could feel every ache in my body, old and new. In that moment I knew I should've taken the Captain's offer sooner. I should've ignored whatever vain stupidity thought Peter had even a sliver of feeling for me and taken my one chance to escape. A whimper fell past my tightly sealed lips as the back of the desk collided with a largely burned patch on my own. Tears pricked behind my eyes, yet I forced them back, blinking fiercely. I had to save my tears for the true problem, the real threat.

I held my breath as the shouts above-decks became more desperate, less restrained. Howls of pain intermingled with roars of battle, splintered by the clash of metal on metal and the occasional ricocheting blast of a pistol. The thunder rumbling across the water was causing rogue waves left and right, splashing the window eagerly. I almost thought it was rain before Felix's story floated to my mind again. It hadn't rained since the first girl cried, he said. Was Neverland... _sympathetic_ to the plights of its captives somehow? No, no, that was ridiculous. An island couldn't feel... Could it? I shook my head faintly, biting the inside of my cheek as the crick in my neck stiffened further.

A loud shout followed by a series of thuds hurtled a limp body against the door as a poor soul finally passed. A sharp sniff passed through the wood, reminding me of the way Fox would swipe at his nose with his arm after a good fight. Someone was right outside. Someone who had just murdered a rather large person by the sound of it. Locking my arms tighter around my knees, I buried my head. Terror coursed through me like the sea outside, surging into my mind and painting situations gruesome enough to make me nearly cry. I remembered the cold that had washed over me as I tore away Andrew's shadow. Fear of myself, of the power that sensation hid, blocked me from admitting the heady euphoria taking a life could instill in my bones.

_Savage, _my mind snarled spitefully. _Savage, savage **beast**._

Was that why the Lost Boys so readily charged into battle? They felt that horribly rapturous feeling when blood spurted from the skin of their victims. Neverland turned you into something that society would not -_could not- _accept. It made you a monstrosity that Peter had already become, that he was grooming his followers to be. He would've made Luke a killer if my precious little brother had lasted. Bile rose in the back of my throat while the person behind the door snickered at the dead body, kicking it once. Peter had called Luke 'a very special boy'. What had he meant? Was he referring to the supposed 'magic' Felix thought I had? Or was it something darker than spells and hexes and potions?

_Was there_ something darker than that? Something more wicked than powers said to come from the devil himself? Was any of it real? Did all magic come from hell as my father so insistently shouted whenever my interest in card tricks surfaced? Had Peter meant to twist Luke into some unrecognizable demon?

I froze as the door creaked open a fraction, spilling light across the floor near the desk. Taking a deep, silent breath, I held in all the oxygen I could. Footsteps muffled by boots shuffled into the room, kicking the crushed glass and maps aside carelessly. I could more clearly hear the noise from up the stairs now. Blood from the man who died allowed the Lost Boy to leave a trail along the floor as he went, perusing the room leisurely.

I bit my cheek hard enough to draw blood as the Lost Boy drew nearer to my hiding spot. An irritated voice barked from near the stairs, stopping the stranger in their tracks. "She in here?"

"Well, if she was you think I'd be down here still, Nibs?" The original intruder snapped, his voice a lighter range than the other's.

"If she isn't then let's go. Pan's done playing around." Nibs responded, sighing as he surveyed the room, staying clear of the crimson puddle forming.

"Like he wasn't already?" The other Lost Boy scoffed, a grin in his voice. The two shared a small chuckle as they darted back up the stairs, slamming the door in their wake.

My air left in a sharp _whoosh. _I deflated against the desk, disregarding the protest of my sore limbs. What would they've done if they _had_ seen me? I could only imagine. Once again, trepidation steeled my mind, forcing it to conjure horrors. I could've been beat, burned, murdered... I shuddered at the delicate way Hook had mentioned the last glaring possibility. _Pride_ he had called it, as if it was something you could regain once it was taken. As if _pride_ was as sacred. Swallowing thickly, I braced myself against the tremors slamming into the ship. A vicious snarl of thunder whipped the sea into an even worse frenzy than before. I assumed Pan had been given the news that the Captain's Quarters were empty.

Cold began to seep through the floor, creeping up my limbs. I hadn't noticed till now, but the temperature was slowly dropping with every minute I passed missing. Peter wasn't just out for blood. He was taking this as a personal umbrage by the pirates, and he would do whatever it took to ensure it never happened again and that he felt he had been fully compensated for his troubles. I heard the shout of fear pierce the night air signalling a Lost Boy had been injured, sealing the already bleak doom of the ship's crew. Everything had evolved into full-fledged hysteria, but now it was a maniac onslaught.

The order sliced through the air, carrying so far that even I could hear the utter rage and abhorrence in Peter's voice. He hadn't thought it would amount to him needing to give this order, but here he was, on the deck of the _Jolly Roger_, using his influence to effectively get his way. It was a single word, a name, but it was all that was needed. I heard a strangled choke, and then a sickening crack. Felix had killed whoever was attempting to guard the stairs with one swift swing of his club, reaching the steps with the speed only a Lost Boy on the hunt could posses.

Feeble, I sniffled once, clenching my fists. I couldn't go back now. Things had gone too far. I couldn't die. I _wouldn't. _With a sense of exasperation, the door slammed against the wall, being flung open by the power underneath Felix's pale flesh. With a crooning voice, he called out to the relative silence of the room. "Bre-e... Where are you...? Come out, come out, wherever you are..." He whispered, taking his time as he came about the corner of the desk. Moving too quick to allow a reaction, his hand shot under the furniture, latching onto my wrist. A tortured scream pealed from my mouth as his grip nearly broke the bones within, causing friction on the skin made tender by the fire. Holding back tears, I began to kick with all my might, twisting in impossible ways as I fought to escape the iron grip of Peter's favorite Lost Boy. Felix always followed orders with precision and perfection. He was the prime soldier, the puppet on a string. Dropping his club, Felix employed the use of both hands, growling slightly as I nearly escaped -where I would escape to I had no clue. The window was too close, the stairs where he wanted me to go. I was cornered.

Baring his teeth in a vicious snarl, he shook me, his voice rumbling through his chest to mine as he crushed me in his muscular arms. I clawed at his hands, wriggling with all I had in me. The blood pounded so loudly in my ears that I had to feel his angry bark for me to still. "You think this helps you, Bree?" He taunted, shaking me like a rag doll. My head snapped back and forth on my neck, causing tears to stab at my eyes again. "You think any sort of fighting is a good idea now? People are _dying_ up there because they wanted to help you. Pan is ready to murder every single pathetic pirate on this ship," Felix spat 'pirate' like it was the worst curse he could think of. "Just for you." I took a sharp inhale, preparing to scream again, shaking my head as sorrow blurred my vision. I felt whimpers spilling from me, appealing to Felix's almost non-existent better nature.

"Please," I begged, storm-blue eyes wide, my voice breaking with the weight of my future. "Please, Felix, you can't let him have me. You knew Luke, you knew my brother, p-please. Let me _go." _

A pregnant pause ensued, only broken by the soft exhale of Neverland's Lieutenant. "You sound so _pretty_ when you're scared, Bree." He purred, laughing shortly. Panic hit me again, ripping a sob from my chest. I lurched, forcing my elbow backwards with all my might. Barely even blinking, Felix yanked me towards the door, intent on finishing his task. Moving steadily, Felix began to drag me up the short set of stairs. I couldn't find it in myself to scream, my throat was too blocked by sobs. I was a dead girl, just like Andrew had predicted. His sneering voice echoed in my mind, '_You're **dead, **Lost Girl!"_ I could almost feel his spirit laughing at me, triumphant.

A feral noise was building in Felix's throat as he grasped the back of my shirt, hurling me up the last step and onto the blood-slick deck. I was wearing his patience thin, but I wouldn't stop struggling. I wasn't going to become compliant just because he threatened me. I knew Felix could use any means he had to to deliver me to Peter, but he couldn't outright injure me. Peter would be livid if he did, and Felix wouldn't risk his best friend's wrath to get in a jab at me.

The fighting ceased almost immediately. From my squirming place on the floor I could see Killian and Peter glaring at each other with so much fury it made a shiver lace my spine. Pulling me to my feet, Felix clamped a hand over the reddened spot where my shoulder and neck met, his grip vise-like around my opposite wrist. The previously warring pirates and Lost Boys parted, giving Felix and I a pathway. The feeling of being a criminal on their way to the noose returned to me, knotting my stomach intricately. Felix's face was impassive, cold, but his eyes were lit with energy and excitement. This was a show were he wouldn't dare blink throughout.

Peter broke his staring contest with Killian, focusing his murderous gaze instead on me. Wrath contorted his entire being into a lethal shape, making his eyes such a dark emerald they seemed black in the bleak illumination cast by the lightening. The faintly green luminescence made his cheeks seem more hollow than they were; it made his collarbones sharper. It set him in a frightening light, etching his lithe frame against the destruction he had wreaked on the innocent ship. Hook dared an apologetic glance in my direction that Felix couldn't have missed unless he was watching his leader. I found myself shrinking against Felix, desperate for any kind of postponement I could get. Felix gave an irritated exhale, pushing me forward without a hint of remorse. He was serving me up on a silver platter.

Peter continued to burn my soul with his slightly narrowed gaze until Felix stopped us perhaps a yard away. With a disgusted curl of his lip, Peter's voice rose, rough and assertive, demanding the attention of everyone present. "Care to explain what you're doing with my property, _Killian_?"

The pirate swallowed nervously, but otherwise looked unfazed. "She was wandering through the woods, Pan. She was attacked by your fairy."

Peter's eyebrow rose, his voice teasing as if speaking to a child. "Do you expect me to believe that? Why was she _on your ship?_"

Hook inhaled deeply, maintaining a blank face. "She needed help. I wasn't about to decline the young miss what assistance I could give."

Holding back a smile, Neverland's King tossed a glance around the ship. "You were helping her, alright, I'll accept that. Why don't you tell me what you were doing _hiding her_?" I felt my heart begin to pound once more. Peter would slit Killian's throat if he knew what had actually occurred.

With a pleasant smile, Hook lifted his head slightly. "Who said I was? You attacked my ship, I defended it."

Felix gave a soft bark of laughter, watching Peter's reaction intently. "You thought you were going to whisk her away, didn't you? Be a _hero_." Peter smirked, his gaze raking Hook scornfully. I tensed involuntarily. "We've known each other for some time now, Killian. You're good at surviving, and you know heroes don't survive long on Neverland." Peter pursed his lips in a slight frown, glancing at me as the corner of his mouth tilted upward. He was looping his way to his point craftily. Peter knew the answer to every question he asked, he just wanted to corner Hook where everyone could see. It wasn't enough for him to simply win, he had to make sure everyone knew it in their heart.

Trying to protect what was left of his crewman, Killian leaned forward, gesturing with his hook. "You have her now. Why don't you return to land, and we can put this behind us." Peter stopped his leisurely pacing, glancing up at the Captain with a condescending arch to his brows.

"Come, come, Killian. You know it's not that simple." Felix grinned eagerly, his fingers twitching slightly, loosening their hold on me. I swallowed the lump in my throat, my eyes wide with concern.

The pirate looked up sharply, his gaze narrowing. "Your Boys have killed over half my crew. Isn't that enough?" Desperation tinged Killian's voice as he stared at the smirking demon in front of him.

Peter rolled his shoulders back, surveying the gaggle of spectators with detached curiosity. "Perhaps it is... Perhaps you don't learn with simply 'enough' anymore, Killian." He snarled, his calm breaking. "You work for me, don't forget that. _Never_ forget that, _Captain_. You know what happens to people who betray me." The controlled anger seem to explode beneath Peter's skin, giving him an aura of infallible power. He was lethal, and he was spitting venom worse than a stepped-on wild cat. "There's a price to pay for thievery on Neverland. How about you handle the mermaids to prove your worth?"

Energy surged through the ship, cracking in tempo with the sky. The pirate hissed obscenities under his breath, not daring to swing at Peter lest the Boy-King fight back. I waited, listening to the crooning sound of voices emerging from the water, calling pirates to the railings. It seemed I was the only one who would weep for the dead. I noticed that only certain crewmen seemed able to hear the sickly-sweet melody the sirens were concocting. Had Peter arranged this especially? Killian's voice shook faintly, his eyes filled with loathing. "You've got your payment. Now _leave_."

Peter blinked once in boredom, letting his message sink in. He turned around, giving a musical whistle that contrasted the mermaids' song.

"Time to go." Felix whispered, tossing me to the side as a cloaked Lost Boy scooted past, catching me with ease. Felix darted over the edge of the boat to his leader's side. Cold fingers gently guided me to the railing, checking for mermaids before climbing onto the wood banister.

"I'm certainly glad to see you again." Alex whispered with a grin, dropping into a canoe as he reached up to guide me down safely. I winced as his hand brushed the fractured section of my rib, but forced a simper. Without warning I tossed my arms around my best friend, relishing the sense of safety the action evoked. Patting my back lightly, Alexander released the hug. "Are you alright?" He questioned, his gaze traveling to Peter's canoe with a hint of worry.

I nodded for his benefit, sitting close to his side while he grabbed an oar. Lost Boys began to fill the vacant spaces in each canoe, taking up the oars without any sort of communication. A muscular Boy with haunted blue eyes bright as a spring sky and dark, brunette-blonde hair that stuck up in the front grasped the remaining oar, fixating his gaze on the shoreline. Sensing my curiosity, Alex lowered his voice further. "That's Nibs. He plans most of the battles with Pan." I watched the strategist from the corner of my eye, gathering what information I could on the hooded figure. He was strong, armed with a shining pair of tomahawks. The hilts were made of well polished wood that had been molded to fit his hands. "Don't stare, you'll make him mad." Alex chided softly, rowing in tandem with the other Lost Boy.

Nibs shut his eyes briefly, the ghost of a smile on his mouth. "You should know better, Alexander."

Calm, Alex arched his brows, tilting his head slightly. "How so?"

Nibs shook his head, the smile becoming more visible. "You know Lost Girls carry death to those closest to them." He answered smoothly, dropping his oar to help guide the boat to shore.

Alex didn't reply at first, but once the canoe had been settled firmly in the sand he assisted me (unnecessarily) in exiting the craft. He gave Nibs a sad smile. "Maybe that's what I want." The other Lost Boy nodded once, as if sudden declarations of suicide were normal. My hand shot out, gripping Alexander's with as much force as I could.

"Don't say that. Do you know what would happen to me if you died? You're my best friend. If your death were on my hands..." I couldn't even fathom what I would do. I felt harsh for lathering him in guilt, but I couldn't afford to lose my best friend and only ally. It was selfish, but it didn't bother me as much as I knew it should've. Before I came to the island I wouldn't have been able to do half of what I had after. I would be shocked by how much I had changed if I took a minute to ponder it, but I didn't. I couldn't allow myself to wallow in misery at what I had lost and what had been begrudgingly gained as my time on Neverland grew, I had more important things to fuss over.

Alexander pulled aside a low-hanging branch for me, gesturing that I go ahead of him and his torch. "I'm not ready to die yet, Bree. I have some unfinished business here still." He promised quietly, raising the brightly glowing stick to better light the thin trail.

* * *

Fox was one of the guards protecting the camp when we returned, flanked by a short Lost Boy with duck-feather hair that stuck up wildly. He was one of the youngest I had seen, appearing to be no more than eight. He looked to be scared out of his wits, but calmed when he saw the group of Lost Boys parading around us. Almost as if by an unspoken rule The Lost Boys traveled in packs of no less than two at all times. Almost never would you see one alone, save for Felix or Peter.

Whoops of victory echoed into the clearing as the conquering war-party returned. The fire sprung to life and Fox chanced a wave to Alexander and I. I smiled, returning the favor and following the group to the fire where a large stag was roasting. The antlers and pelt had been stripped from the animal, making me realize that the Boys were more resourceful than I gave them credit for. Before I had the chance to settle and tend to my wounds I was snatched from behind.

Arms held me firmly, stealing the air of calm I had procured. An unmistakable feeling cinched my lungs as the camp blurred away.

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**A/N: This is the first time I've spent two consecutive days on a single chapter. I really hope this one stands up to your expectations. I'd like to thank all the wonderful people who have reviewed this story, or added it to their alerts/favorites! This story has reached 59 Followers and 45 Favorites as of today, and I can't tell you all how happy that makes me! I was terrified that no one would like the story when I originally posted the prologue, but it's come this far and it's all thanks to you wonderful readers! Here's to the 20th 'page', Chapter Nineteen, and many more to come! Bluemoon, over and out~**


	21. Chapter 20: Giving You What You Wanted

**A/N: Twenty chapters (Okay, and a prologue), a little over a year old, and getting attention from so many wonderful people! This tale really has grown so much in just a year. It's kinda trippy to sit back and realize how much has changed about the story, my writing, and myself since the Prologue. I hope that it has evolved for the better, because there's no going back ;) . Merry Christmas PanFans! Chapter 20, ladies and gents!**

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A rattling cough burst from my lungs while the sensation left just as swiftly as it had come. Blinking away the fog that clouded my vision, I recognized the inside of Peter's hut. Slamming my body against the wall so hard I wailed (feeling my rib finally split through) was Peter Pan himself. Tears added to the confusion of my situation. I curled against the wall, my trembling hands covering the jutting section of skin. Sneering, Peter took a half-step back, assessing the entirety of my wounds with a hint of distaste. My shirt was once more ruined, along with a few ash-streaked sections of my undershirt. My pants were torn in more place than one, but other than a few scuffs my old hunting boots had remained intact. Creasing my face in concentration, I forced my head backwards, smacking it against the wall sharply while narrowing my reddened eyes. Pain exploded over the contusion, flooding the backs of my lids red. I focused on the ache spread across the back of my skull, telling myself it was the only thing that hurt.

Watching with a sick fascination, Peter's darkly colored gaze followed every minuscule tick of movement I made. Taking in a deep, shaking breath, I lifted the hem of my shirt. The skin had split over the protrusion, bleeding and cracking like knuckles after a brawl. In a vain attempt to stave off any more screams I gripped my sleeve between my teeth. A snarl of pain fit for a lion rumbled through the room as I felt over the area, testing it. Droplets rolled down my cheeks, making Peter's pupils dilate, nearly swallowing his irises entirely in the dark of the room. Of anything, he wasn't expecting me to entirely ignore his presence and tend to my wounds. I could feel that he was itching for recognition, for me to scream at him. I couldn't waste anytime being a petulant child and throw the blame around. If I didn't bind the wound soon it could fester. My shoulders heaved as I pressed down harder, attempting to force the bone back into place. A sharp, feral snarl of pain rumbled in my mouth as I clenched my teeth. Tears barbed my eyes while I explored the area surrounding the break. I inhaled fiercely, giving a quick shove to the offending bone. I howled against my shoulder, deciding that perhaps it was best to leave well enough alone at the present moment. My hands shook, adding to the lack of efficiency behind my efforts. I had felt plenty of pain before, but _this_?

Overexerted, I took my time in recuperating from my self-ministrations, nearly collapsing against the wall. A childish huff finally made me open my tired eyes. Sweat stuck wisps of hair to my temples and neck, exhaustion shook every pore of my body, yet Peter still had the nerve to be egotistical. He absolutely _had to _command the attention of everyone around him, because, after all, what was more intriguing than a magical king? "Tired, Trinket? Whimpering against a wall isn't very becoming of a Lost Girl." I glared at him in stony silence, allowing my eyes to open a slit. With a low growl, Peter snatched away the hand protecting my side, yanking me from the wall. Nearly collapsing, I fell against his chest. The subtlest of movements hurt every inch of me. Waves of suffering racked my body, and the fatigue I felt went bone-deep (even more so than any time before).

With a ferocity I had become all too familiar with, Peter gathered me in his arms only to drive me against the wall with the force of his shove. His soft mouth was twisted into a sneer, his gaze ripping open new wounds across my mind. Weak from blood loss, I slid down the barrier, not finding enough strength to even manage a cry of pain. My head lolled forward, flinging locks of hair around the outline of my face. I wanted to batter him with my fists till he was senseless for being so infantile, but I had worn myself ragged trying to live. It was a battle just staying conscious. I would be out cold before my fists even connected. A breathy laugh fell from my mouth, fluttering through the air to his keen ears.

Practically beside himself with fury, Neverland's King dragged me to my feet, slamming his hand against the broken section of my rib cage. A scream worthy of my dying breath flooded the hut, making a flurry of birds chirp in annoyance outside as they fled. And yet, the agony spreading had begun to fade. A furtive glance at my side ascertained my fears. A pale green magic was seeping into the wound and over my skin, sealing the gashes and healing the burns. Energy penetrated my soul like whiskey, swirling through my veins with gleeful intent. In Peter's eyes I saw the glow lighting my own. A sickening bile rose in my throat: he was using magic. The same magic that had imprisoned me here, that filled my limbs with lead, that tore away Andrew's shadow, was now being used to bring me back from the brink of death. Magic stemming from the same reservoir on Neverland that fueled Tinkerbell and allowed her to squeeze my heart, to light a wildfire, was restoring power to my limbs. "You don't want to play these games with me, Trinket." Peter whispered, taking a step back, tilting his head in a condescending fashion. "I _always _win."

Dizzy, the hairs on the back of my neck stood straight up. The small grin pulling at his mouth was enough to tell me something was still _very_ wrong. The bile ebbed, leaking into a more potent sensation as the redolent smell of a familiar purple plant floated in on the light breeze. _Dreamshade!_ It was _everywhere_ on this godforsaken spit of land, wasn't it? Had Peter smelled it also? Was that what had given his mood such a spontaneous lift? The mischievous gleam in his eyes most definitely corroborated my assumption if the smirk tugging at his mouth wasn't enough. "If you always win, how is it still entertaining to initiate such games?" I responded just as quietly, straightening my back. "What would be the point?" I bit my lip, entertaining the urge to blurt a dangerous question. Peter's gaze narrowed a fraction while his lips parted, taken aback by my bluntness. "Why keep bringing girls if they all are unsatisfactory? Why keep saving me if I'm such a disappointment?"

Peter's smile faded as soon as the words formed in my mouth. With a scowl he towered over me, straightening to his full height. "None of your business, Trinket." A smirk graced his lips as he caged me with his arms, tilting his head and lowering his voice to a barely audible level, making me lean in to hear better (which was _exactly _what he wanted in the first place: my full, undivided attention). His sudden mood swings were making me more wary than I already was. How could I predict what he would do if he was being unpredictable? What was I to do -assume the worst and try to stand my ground?

The silence had just begun to get incredibly uncomfortable when Peter ducked his head, pressing his forehead against mine and shutting his eyes. My heart pounded in my chest erratically. His breath ghosted over my face, light and pleasant, and exceptionally unnerving. Queries stuck in my throat, making it difficult to breath. Peter visibly relaxed yet somehow retained the feral lethalness in his muscles. "You can't leave, you know. You'll never leave me." His voice was quiet, sincere in his self-assurance.

I swallowed nervously, letting my eyes slide shut. "Someday, I will. Someday your back will be turned. Someday your guards will be too slow. Someday I will escape Neverland, one way or another. Alive... or dead." I murmured serenely, devout in my vows to return to the land I had abandoned. Perhaps I was so far gone that I hadn't heard the impending threat, the _warning_, in his voice, but it was highly plausible that it hadn't been there in the first place. Perhaps Peter believed I had finally given in to my fate and thought he was stating a simple fact. Either way, the not-really-a-warning-warning gave way to his infamous temper.

The growl of speech rumbled in his chest, vibrating through to me. "I've forbidden it," Peter snarled, his fingers suddenly cutting into my shoulders with their pressure. He shook me, forcing my gaze up to his own with the ferocity of his tone. "I've forbidden you _ever _leaving. You made a magical bond the moment your feet touched the island, Trinket, and that bond is only broken by death and _my_ say so."

Shocked, my storm blue eyes stretched wide. Why was he so- so- _childish? _What made him so interested in _me, _of all the poor girls he had kidnapped? Why did _I_ have to be an exception? Thoughts whirled in my mind so fast they could've formed a wind tunnel. How was it fair, or merciful, or _right _to keep me prisoner? What could he _possibly _gain from all this? "I'm leaving, whether or not you agree with it!" I shouted, pushing him back with the help of whatever adrenaline he had injected into my blood. "I deserve to _live, _just like your Lost Boys did. You rescued them from what was killing them, and now I'm doing the same for myself."

The air seemed to stand still, the breeze disappearing entirely in the bat of an eyelash. Dreamshade still seemed to flood my nose, making me question if Peter had stowed some in the hut. "Do you really want to die, Bree...?" He hissed suddenly, his gaze detached and cold. Clenching my fists, I lifted my chin defiantly.

"If it means escaping _you_, then... yes." I responded, dropping my gaze and confidence to the floor. Sneering, Peter returned his hands to their places beside my shoulders, leaning forward slightly. Tension filled the room, replacing the calming effect the night air had instilled. I felt myself slouch in a sorry attempt to gain more space between us. His eyes seemed to be lit with a fire that I hadn't seen since set his Lost Boys on Andrew. Tauntingly, he began to cock his head to the side, lowering his eyes to mine.

"Death is rather permanent, Trinket..." He lowered his head a fraction more, nearly leveling it with my own. I felt every alarm in my head suddenly go off at his close proximity. I had barely enough room to breath without touching him from the rise and fall of my chest. He was so close that I began to panic. Flashes of the crazed look in the eyes of a trapped animal tickled my mind.

Alarmed, my eyes became wide as saucers, darting over his face and the room desperately. "Peter, I-" I swallowed to relieve the sudden dryness of my throat, wondering why speech suddenly seemed impossible. My voice was barely a squeak, making the corners of his mouth curve upward.

"Oh, I know, Trinket. You just need some time to think it over. You haven't even considered the benefits of staying, have you?" I began to shake my head, making his faint smirk stretch into a grin, teeth and all. "Exactly. Neverland is the greatest adventure you will ever have, and you can have it for eternity. Why would anyone in their right mind want to leave?" Peter exhaled softly, raising the hairs on the back of my neck and eliciting gooseflesh down my arms."You have to consider things from a more positive perspective, Trinket." He crooned, smiling at me. "Death isn't an option by your own hand. You're too soft." Irritated but subdued, I felt a rush of blood come to my face. He was right. I couldn't slit my own wrists or stab myself in the heart. However, there was a much simpler alternative conveniently located just outside the window. Self-doubt wormed into my thoughts, questioning if I could even do what it took to die by Dreamshade.

Leaning my head backwards against the wall, I listened to the thundering of my pulse, certain he could hear it. "What do you propose I do then? Wait till there's a terrible _accident_ one day while we're all playing in the woods? Or maybe you'd prefer to do the killing yourself, is that it?" I snapped, pleased with the anger I was faking in my voice. It made me sound much more brave than I felt.

Peter laughed, a pure, from-the-bottom-of-his-lungs laugh. My brows furrowed and my entire body tensed. His laugh, while perfect, made fear shoot down my spine. His mirth died down, lingering in his eyes. Peter closed the short distance he had made, grinning at me happily. "You're such a silly girl." He twirled a lock of my hair around his index finger, tugging it lightly like he had done before. I hadn't made attempts to reject this twisted form of Peter's 'affection' before, so I saw no reason to try and yank my hair back now considering my position. He dropped the piece only to sweep the entirety of my hair to one side. "Such a _silly_, pretty little doll." Peter chuckled quietly, studying me with a sudden spark of interest. "What did you feel being so close to Winter Woods?"

"I don't know what you mean." I choked out, refusing to meet his gaze. Peter tilted his head to the side as if to say I was being ridiculous, raising his brows while leaning his head closer.

"Of course you do. You've always thought you know what I mean! You think you see _right_ through me. What did you dream about there? Was it blackness, or did you see faces? Did anyone visit you?" Peter questioned animatedly.

Glowering faintly, my lips curved downward. "I saw nothing. Absolutely nothing." I responded monotonously.

Peter's eyes snapped to me, abandoning whatever he had been watching out the window. He pouted momentarily, narrowing his eyes. "_Liar._" He jeered, disgruntled. "Why do you _always_ try lying to me?" He sighed, crestfallen. Peter's neck seemed to give up on supporting him, allowing his forehead to resume resting against mine. He punctuated each word with a soft tap of his head against mine.

A strange heat began to creep over my face, lighting my cheeks a pale pink. "It isn't a lie. I never dreamed there." I whispered, hoping he would leave well enough alone. It wasn't like it mattered. He was just trying to get my guard down to murder me.

Peter's eyebrow jumped, reminding me that he was forever expressive. "You're a terrible liar, Bree. Someone has to have told you that before."

_Alex did once. Felix probably has._ I recalled absently, focusing on keeping my breathing even to avoid thinking about his own lightly washing my face with his scent.

"Nevertheless, I expect honesty from my Lost Boys, and you are held to the same standards. What's the point in lying? What could you _possibly _gain from it?" I shivered at his low rasp, firmly placing my hands over his shoulders.

"Stop. Just -stop." I breathed, pushing Peter back as far as my arms would go. "This isn't _right_." My eyes opened, beginning to fringe in tears as I stared at him, desperate for him to be merciful this once. The pain of my heart twisting -tearing- the night I heard the music for the first time came flooding back. I couldn't allow myself the simple happiness of having him close. I couldn't become happy here or else I would never escape. He had his charm worked in so deep that I was practically incapacitated by his smile.

"What's so wrong about this?" Peter whispered quietly, making it sound like a genuine question even though he meant it just to manipulate me. Any trace of delight had left his face, leaving it shadowed. I half-convinced myself a flicker of hurt passed through his eyes, but Peter didn't feel. He didn't love.

_He's a **demon**. He's wicked, and evil, and spiteful. He'll be your end. _I reprimanded myself, wrapping my arms tightly around my freshly healed torso. "_Everything_. You've been promising to kill me for approximately a _month_ now. Why haven't you done it?" My voice began to tremble, becoming thick and weighed down by emotion. "Why won't you let me be free of all the pain here?"

A disappointed expression graced his features. "I thought you would've known better, Trinket. Don't you ever _listen_?"

A wave of dread hit me, nearly stopping my breathing. Peter had stopped calculating my expression and was now arching his brows. The terrifying light his eyes had held was returning. "I could kill you right now," He murmured, suddenly interested in the dip of my temple, his eyes vaguely widening with excitement. I fidgeted uncomfortably, nearly jumping out of my skin when he pressed a gentle kiss to the area. Peter guided me back against the wall, rubbing his thumb over a soft spot on my throat. My back thudded against the woven bamboo dully. "It would be easy -_effortless_. No one would miss you. Luke is dead, Daddy's drunk too often to notice -and soon he'll be dead. Alexander and Fox would forget you entirely within a fortnight. The only person that would be able to recall your face would be your mother," A short exhale of laughter chilled me to the bone. "But she died too, didn't she?" I squirmed, stung by his pitiless assessment.

"Alexander wouldn't forget me. He's my frien-" I blurted, stopped by his scathing tone.

_Athagoraphobia, mum had called it. Fear of being abandoned. _

"Your _friend_?" Peter growled cruelly, pulling his face back to sneer at me. "Lost Boys don't befriend toys, Trinket. They _hunt _them. Every single one of them is _dying_ to get their hands on you for one reason or another, and they are all perfectly willing to do whatever it takes. Don't be a fool and take their well-hidden intents for friendship." Peter divulged, his lip curling in disgust at my ignorance.

Indignant, I shook my head. "You're wrong. Alex isn't like the rest of them. He isn't like _you._" A tremendous lie if I ever did hear one. Alexander was almost _exactly_ like Peter if you didn't know him well. He was a replica with a soul. Desperation tinged my voice. "He would never do anything to hurt me. He protected me, he woke me up from the horrid nightmare, and- and-" I felt my rant coming short.

"_I_ was the one who sent Alexander to collect you from Felix when Killian attacked. _I _am the reason he took a liking to your company. _I _was the one who put him on guard duty outside. Why else would he suddenly be everywhere you were? It was all _my_ doing. Lost Boys don't get to frolic around whenever it pleases them. He was following orders, not being amiable." Peter scoffed, glaring at me with annoyance.

I pursed my lips, recalling the shadows of doubt I had when first I realized how quickly his demeanor had changed. It didn't sit well in my gut, but I refused to dwell on such noxious words, especially when they came from the jealous King of Neverland. "Then where was he when I nearly died today? If he was supposed to be my personal body guard, why wasn't he there?" I countered, knowing it sounded like I believed him.

Peter's expression darkened. "That is a marvelous point, Trinket. An even better one is that the pirates somehow knew _exactly _where to find you..." Ire blackened his irises, lowering the temperature of the room drastically. "Such a coincidence, isn't it?" I winced, struggling against his hands as they forced me further into contact with the wall. "Which guard was it, Trinket? Which one told Killian where to look?"

Confused, my mouth parted to speak, but no words came out. His nose wrinkled as if he was thoroughly displeased. With a sharp movement, he was holding his dagger to my throat. "You said you were wishing for death..." I froze, disbelief and fear coating my features. "Am I wrong? Do you not want it anymore now that it's so close?"

Flustered, I shook my head. "I-I don't kn-"

Peter's hand collided with the place Felix's had been on my shoulder, and red hot pain exploded over the area. The blade had returned to its sheath; it was as if he were holding a torch to me, lighting my skin ablaze. Squirming, I yelped, jerking away only to collide with his other arm. "_Who was it?_" He hissed, his voice becoming a deadly growl. Shaking my head, I felt the burn spreading, painting areas that had been pale, clean flesh moments ago yet blistering less than a hour previous. He was putting my wounds back in place. Vehement, he narrowed his eyes.

"Please, I honestly don't know! Peter-!" I shouted, tears blurring my vision. His hand left as if the magic had turned on him and scorched his skin instead.

Scowling, Peter pinned me with a spiteful glare. "Why were you trying to leave?" He deadpanned, his eyes locked on mine even though he held his head high. Still breathing unsteadily, I felt my neck for the burn mark to find any trace of it ever being there had vanished. I wondered if he knew of Hook's plan, if that was why he had made certain the Captain payed a price much higher than his crime asked.

Swallowing thickly, I stared back, carefully wording my sentences to avoid endangering Killian and his crew further. "I'll admit, I was tempted to stay on the ship and wait for them to leave, but something stopped me." Blinking rapidly to force back any tears, I inhaled sharply, my fingers still dancing over the tingling flesh. "I'd be more of an outcast than I already was. I couldn't reclaim my job, my house -anything. It would all be _lost_. I have no idea how much time has passed there. It could be seconds, it could be _decades_." Wetting my lips nervously, I let the truth pour out. "Some... _sick_ part of me doesn't want to leave. Something keeps telling me that I couldn't possibly go back, that I'd never be safe, that -that I'd be mundane and _lifeless_ there and... I can't go back." I finished, realizing how much emotion had poured from me as I spoke.

Arching a brow thoughtfully, Peter scrutinized me. His emerald irises were shaded with anger, indecision. After what felt like hours of him rolling options around in his mind, Peter finally let out a weary sigh. "Tink was right. You've been here too long." His hands fell away from the wall as he glanced about the room. His shoulders slumped faintly, as if he was accepting a small defeat. He retreated a few steps, looking perturbed.

Confusion painted my face as I tried to understand. Was he finally going to send me home, or was he planning on murdering me for his game? "I-I don't understand..." I admitted, staring at him as I inched closer.

Peter glanced at me, his lips parting slightly as he collected his thoughts. "You wouldn't." Was all he murmured, his eyes glassing over. For a minute he seemed to stare through the walls before his mind returned to the hut.

I turned my attention to the window, peering past the flowy lace curtains. The jungle was dark, quiet. A small light flickered on the path, darting out of sight almost instantaneously. Peter abruptly twisted my arm behind my back, forcing me against the wall the window was set in. I let out a loud shout of pain, twisting every which way till I saw Peter's soft grin. He leaned closer conspiratorially, keeping his voice low while he muttered in my ear. "You've dreamed of me killing you quite a few times since your arrival," He held me close with one arm, releasing my hand to move away my heavy curtain of ebony waves. "Haven't you, Trinket? It's like a sick fantasy." Already widened by fear, my eyes must have mimicked a china doll's. Where was he going with this? "Well, I feel no shame in telling you I've thought about it as well. Nothing would make me happier than to finally feel your blood pooling over my fingers." He squeezed my throat once, holding his hand there threateningly. "I could take your breath away, watch the life leave your pretty little eyes. If your head met the window enough times you would collapse, but that's too much of a mess."

I steeled my nerves, telling myself he was just talking. Peter loved to hear himself talk. He leaned the side of his face against mine, letting out a soft hum of contentment. The silence stretched for heartbeats, growing as the room seemed to shrink. The world began to fade to a fuzzy halo just outside my vision, narrowing down till I was intensely aware of Peter and nothing else. His mouth curved to one side as he nuzzled my neck. "I know _exactly_ how to murder you. I know the way you fear the most. I've seen it in your eyes plenty of times. It's the same way mommy died, but with a twist. Even in death you'll be branded by the island." A sick enjoyment painted Peter's handsome features as he spun me to face him. Pressing a light kiss over my mouth, he laughed quietly. "Just remember that I'm giving you what you wanted..."

* * *

**A/N: And there it is! I don't like the way this chapter ended, but it's late and I'm tired from having to be around so many people today. I'd say the story is nearing the end, but I honestly don't know XD . It could be 25 chapters or 35 chapters at this point. However long it takes to reach the ending I have in mind. Happy Holidays everyone! Enjoy my little present to you! **


	22. Chapter 21: A Deadly Nightmare

**A/N: Okay... How to put this... Yes, I know my updating is sporadic and infuriating, but I can't really help it; I'm sorry guys. I hope everyone's having a good day! I think it's about time for a new chapter, don't you? This one should be fun (I hope). Chapter Twenty-One!**

* * *

The eager light Luke's eyes once held before a game or story now illuminated Peter's. I believed his words at last. He would finally end it all. And to think it only took me nearly escaping for him to decide! "At least I'll be free." I replied, my voice soft yet powerful; a small, sad smile lifted my face. I felt an odd stirring in my fingertips -like all the adrenaline Peter had forced into my veins was collecting there, waiting to be used.

Peter spared a glance to my curled fists, his meadow-grass eyes slowly returning to my face. It took him a second too long to smile cheekily, and my ears perked to hear his farewell. "Are you certain of that, Trinket?" With all the ease of a stretching feline, he beckoned the drawer of the off-white nightstand open. I heard several small clicks, then wood lightly brushing wood as a false bottom lifted, allowing a tiny apothecary vial of liquid purple so dark it could've passed for the night in a bottle to float into Peter's outstretched hand. Instantly, I thought of the Dreamshade poison that Lost Boys tipped their weapons in. It took a drop to give a slow demise and a deep scratch to welcome Death within a minute -if your wound came directly from the plant.

I clenched my jaw, feeling my pulse begin a steady thundering in my neck akin to the footfalls of a trotting horse. He uncorked the bottle, his eyes flitting between myself and the bottle with wide-eyed curiosity. Grinning at me, Peter sniffed the contents delicately, screwing up his face with amusement at the sharp smell. He blew on the lip of the tiny vial as if to cool it. I took a deep breath, attempting to get a good whiff of the liquid. All I could smell was the Dreamshade floating in on the breeze. Peter lifted it so a shaft of moonlight illuminated the oily substance. "Magnificent, isn't it?" He looked at me with an open expression, asking for an answer.

I stared at him blankly, my eyebrows furrowing slightly. How would one respond to something as ridiculous as that, especially in my precarious situation? Peter's mouth drooped faintly at the corners, showing his disappointment. He thrusted the small bottle closer, ignoring my lack of response momentarily. "Take a nice, deep inhale of it, now. There we are..." He ordered airily, the impish smile never dropping. "Come on, Trinket. It won't kill you to smell it. That wouldn't be any fun at all." I took a short, barely-breathing sniff of the bottle. Peter arched a brow accusingly, pushing the bottle directly under my nose. My frightened gaze swept over his handsome features for anything at all before I took a full breath of the scent. My legs suddenly buckled and my eyes slammed shut as the laughter tumbled from Peter's large smile.

It **definitely** wasn't Dreamshade.

* * *

Hazy fragments of watery images blurred across my vision. A sickness filled my stomach, and pressure came from a solid piece of strength that was pressed into my gut from my dead weight being thrown over it. Muddled, I blew out a weak flutter of air, seeing tendrils of black curling and billowing away from my face in tempo with the soft brown splotch that rippled with each shift of the weight under me. A thick loop of brawn held me tightly against the painful rock that jabbed into my abdomen. A pull filled my shoulders and hips, reminding that gravity was a fickle beast. A deep voice resonating from the lethal mass holding me posed a question to the air in front of me, earning a lighter laugh in response. Nothing sounded clear, nothing felt solid expect the thing carrying me and the throbbing in my head stemming from my nose and the back of my skull. Pained, I allowed my lids to close, welcoming the daze that hid in the recesses of my mind.

* * *

Cold blew over my frame, rousing me from the chaotic screams filling my head growing louder by the minute. I shivered, relishing the warmth that seeped into me from the concretion still carrying my limp body tirelessly. All I could make out through the bleariness of my failing vision was a dark whiteness that seemed never-ending beneath the thing hauling me. A lighter sound buzzed in my ears again, reminding me of towering laughter and smirking boys. This time it sounded more like a command, reprimanding the deeper voice quickly. A deep billow of released breath warmed the air near me before a soft fabric was tossed between the cold and my skin. I slowly realized a person was carrying me -a very tall, familiar person. However hard I tried I could not conjure a face or name; all I could grasp was a teasing voice and pools of brilliant blue in a scarred landscape.

My mind had become blank and misty, filled only with the pain I had endured and the somber faces of the fallen when I relinquished my feeble control of thought. I could not twitch a finger or wiggle a toe. Everything in my body had become sluggish and nearly completely inactive. I scrambled for a speck of focus before searching for my heartbeat. I felt the warmth of a pulse pressed against my side from the tall boy's neck, but my own was barely a whisper of a blink. My breath had long ago deteriorated to no more than a faint hiss of air coming in and out through my nose infrequently. I would be considered dead by any practitioner in the world. The cold had become a complete cocoon, sharpening the air with its fierce claws.

I struggled to remain conscious (or whatever this cursed state qualified as), terrified of both the horrors behind my eyelids and the impending danger I tasted in the air. There was a thickness to the wind and a tangible, bitter excitement coming from ahead. Energy charged the area with darkness. Resigning to blindness, my eyes gave up attempting to make sense of the blurs and smudges covering the world. Spent, I rested my forehead on the boy's chest, allowing the faces stretched with fear to dominate my mind once more.

* * *

The boy shifted, halting in his march. The lighter voice (another boy I could not peg a name to) began speaking calm words that hid excitement. The deeper voice responded dutifully, sounding like a tired friend. With a smooth movement I was sat on the freezing ground. Had I possessed any control of my muscles I would've shrieked, leaping back to the warmth the taller boy held, yet my body remained limp against the rough bark of a gnarled tree and the frigid dampness of the ground.

A deep inhale pierced my ears as a form crouched in front of me. With gentle fingers, my hair was brushed back. I struggled to open my eyes, fighting to regain further awareness of my situation. I must've looked pathetic -like a discarded doll once a child receives a newer design. A grinning voice laced with poisonous intent cooed at me, finally breaking through the barrier muffling my ears. "You look so innocent, Bree. Innocent like Luke."

_Luke? Where_ is_ Luke? Has he found my brother? Is Mother home? Has Father caught dinner yet? _Eager thoughts filled by falsely given hope lit my mind with visions of my family. "Too bad he's dead." The other boy added, a jeer in his voice. "Get on with it, we can't be here long. It isn't safe, even for _you_."

My heart tore, allowing the vicious shadows to greedily feast upon my happiness, shredding it to pieces. A memory shook loose from the web of confusion. Mother had been massacred in the cobblestones of the street. She was painted brilliant shades of scarlet, her nightgown soaked in it, and the man responsible got away. I had cried all day and night, not understanding that life was easily ended at my tender age of ten. The boy closest to me sighed in annoyance, stirring my hair with his breath. A familiar scent tickled my nose just the same as his voice had my ears.

"She's hardly awake, Felix. I can't just break the spell _now_; it doesn't work that way. Even if it did I wouldn't. That would ruin my fun. She has to wake herself up." The name ripped another stream of memories loose. I felt my breath finally rise, flooding my lungs all at once as my eyes finally cleared. **Felix.** The lieutenant of Neverland. The Boy who was more of a lethal puppet. The one who had dragged me away from my freedom and destroyed my chances at escaping. The feathery blonde gave a small grin at my wide-eyed fear, staring back without a hint of shame or regret on his face.

That meant Peter was the only one who could possibly be beside me. The thunderstorm of my eyes whipped to the King of Neverland accusingly, unable to hide the anxiety I felt. He had cast a spell on me in the hut with the liquid. My mind furiously sorted through the short time I had seen the vial. _When Peter had blown into it, that must have been it. If it had been dangerous before then he would've been incapacitated as well. He had enchanted it, tricking me with the Dreamshade patch outside the window. That dirty, rotten **cheater**!_

With a short chuckle, his fingers pushed my hair away again. "Hello, Trinket. Glad to see you've rejoined the world of the living. Well," Peter cast a mocking glance at my frozen limbs. "For the most part, at least." Peter peeked over his shoulder at Felix, sporting a large smile as his deputy grinned. Scooping up my lifeless left arm from across my body, Peter unsheathed his dagger. With a quick press of his mouth to mine I found speech possible.

"You're going to kill me now, aren't you?" I whispered, feeling the scratch of my unused voice returning.

With a condescending face, Peter arched a brow. "It _is _what you wanted. No one leaves without my permission, so, now I am allowing you to leave." I felt tears prick my eyes, threatening to show my weakness. A solitary crystal drop fell, rolling down my cheek. Lightly clicking his tongue, Peter brushed the offending sadness away, holding my face gently in his hands. "Goodbye, Breeanna. To die will be an awfully big adventure." This time when Peter pressed a kiss to my forehead he lingered, shutting his own eyes for a moment before pulling away.

Sparing me no mercy, he began to carve into my arm. I whimpered at first, attempting my best to contain the stream of begging that wanted to leap into the open as I internally writhed in his unbreakable grip till soft cries pierced the air. Pressing the tip of the blade in a final time, he completed his masterpiece. In bloody, jagged letters, Peter's full name stretched the length of my forearm. Tears ran tracks down my face. A sharp pain came in waves from the mangled skin. Peter had been careful enough not to damage anything within the flesh, but the pain was plenty to make hollow hiccups of sobbing tremble on my lips.

Smirking in satisfaction at his work, Peter pressed a handful of snow over the puckering area. Felix tossed a bottle of deep purple liquid to his friend, who easily caught it. A small flower was painted on the cork, marking it as poison. "Lost Boys are instructed to carry these vials with them if they roam the woods. Since capture is possible so is the leaking of information -one way or another." He set the glass apothecary bottle on the ground beside my frozen legs. "Naturally, any Lost Boy would rather die than become a traitor, hence the escape plan." Peter nodded to the poison, casting a smile at my stunned expression. Taking my right arm he pressed his blade in, making a deeper gouge than before, much quicker than before. I bit into my lip to muffle screaming. Felix had said they needed to hurry, so if I could hold on long enough, he wouldn't be able to waste time on torture, he would just have to kill me.

Why wouldn't this place be safe for even Peter? It was on his island! I focused on the puzzle to avoid the agony spreading down my limb. I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling the tears continue falling. There was snow everywhere, the woods were darker than anywhere else -save for near where I was imprisoned... Peter was killing me in Winter Woods. The one place no one would hardly ever speak about. The place Alex had warned me of. The place Luke died in, all alone...

Feeling the blade leave my arm, I chanced a look. The skin was splashed with fresh, crimson blood, cut deep and long. Tormented sobs filled the air while I turned my head away -using what little motion I had control of to avoid the grisly scene. Peter scowled faintly, annoyed by the sudden weakness I was freely displaying. I could die from blood loss, from the suffering, from my broken heart. Uncapping the bottle, Peter rubbed the cork over the torn edges of my wound. My arm suddenly jerked, regaining movement with the torture. I screamed with all I had, relinquishing any tears that wanted freedom now. The veins I could see beneath my skin turned black, sticking out sharply against the paleness of my complexion and the snow. I pressed the limb to me, sobbing. It felt as if the poison were burning my arm, eating away my flesh and contorting my muscles. I shook, unable to stand, but not completely frozen any longer.

Felix took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. Peter shot him a curious glance, noticing his lieutenant's fascination with my tears and blood. Moving to stand beside him, Peter smirked, allowing one corner of his mouth to curl upward in satisfaction. "Felix, any last words to our dear, Trinket?"

The willowy blonde stared me in the eye without a hint of sympathy therein. "Sweet dreams, Bree." Dipping his head in a nod that held a suggestion of respect, Felix turned and walked away. Peter watched till Felix's back had completely disappeared into the trees before dropping beside me one final time.

"Had this worked out differently, you may have survived. However much I enjoyed your attempts at winning," Peter straightened the cloak still thrown around my shoulders, his fingers lingering on the goosebump-covered flesh of my collarbones. He slid his fingers under the animal-pelt fabric, allowing cold air to spill in as the warmth of his palm pressed into my shoulder, feeling my laboring heartbeat. "You've been here too long. The island has grown used to your thoughts already. It's attacking your dreams. The other inhabitants are starting to talk about you, and it has to be stopped. The incident with Tinkerbell and Killian was just the beginning. Soon enough the Tribe will become interested in using you against me if you aren't disposed of. I won't give my enemies something to hold over me as leverage." Peter's voice was grave, firm and filled with strong emotion. His brilliant emerald eyes bore into mine fiercely. "_I won't._"

I sniffled, nearly collapsing under the throbbing ache that rattled my bones. "Just **go**! Leave me to die and stop pretending you care! It'll be over quickly and you can move on with your miserable life on this godforsaken spit of land. I _hate _magic, I _hate _Neverland, and I _hate you_." I whispered, closing my eyes to accept death. Peter looked slightly wounded, but he brushed away the tears left on my face. With a silent goodbye, the air thinned in front of me, and then he was gone.

Taking a deep breath (and ignoring that the cloak smelled of Peter), I curled my legs to my chest, hiding within the only warmth I could find. Weeping miserably, I waited for the Dreamshade to reach up my arm and into my heart, wishing it would kill me faster. The pain was moving in waves, marching its way over my forearm achingly slow. Even the faintest twitch of my arm sent a wave of pain to my mind, but I ripped the cloak off, embracing the cold I had felt sporadically on Neverland ever since my arrival. Everywhere Peter was it grew cold with his presence, and every time I was harmed or scared it turned chilly. When my dreams took a sinister curve, the air became an ice box.

I remembered Father saying you were supposed to lay your soul bare when you came close to death. It would cleanse you and allow you a greater chance at happiness in the afterlife. Inhaling deeply, I began to list things in my head.

_I have killed one and lead to the deaths of countless others. It was not my intention to do either, but this island is cursed as much as its ruler. As long as he reigns, the island will know pain and death. I have finally won my freedom, yet it is bitter and pyrrhic at best. I am selfish if nothing else. I allowed many to suffer and inflicted pain on others. I caused great danger to those in my village and on this island. I didn't call for a doctor to save my mother. I didn't search far enough for Luke._

I took a shuddering breath, feeling my whole body shake. "I'm sorry, Alexander. I let him win."

"Shut up." A callous voice snarled, snapping me to attention. "Shut up." A thin girl with hair so dark it made her skin appear whiter than snow stood glaring at me. Her eyes were a pale silvery lavender. The curve of her nose and the jut of her cheekbones seemed familiar as much as her hair was. "Stop crying and _leave_." She ordered, hatred burning in her eyes.

I blinked multiple times in confusion, staring back at her. She had a large patch of blood over her heart and thin bracelets of red around her wrists. Black veins were barely visible up and down her arms. Horror washed over me as I continued to pinpoint why this girl was so strange: she was nearly translucent when I looked straight at her. I could see _through_ her. Anger sharpened her features as she bared her teeth in a sneer. "Are you _deaf_, asshole? I said _leave_! Leave or I'll _make you._"

I numbly pulled myself to my feet. My voice was barely audible. "You're Alexander's sister, aren't you?"

The spirit recoiled as if the name mortally wounded her. With a loud scream she began shouting at me. "_Leave you stupid girl! Go away! Go away, or I'll make you! He let you live you bastard! He let you **live**! He murdered me in front of my brother! He killed me! Why are you alive? Why do you deserve to live and **not me**?" _She shrieked, taking a step closer, her eyes colored a bloodshot-red. I gripped Peter's cloak tightly, stumbling away from the furious spirit.

"I'm sorry!" I yelped fearfully, nearly doubling over again with agony as the incisions creating peter's name twisted with my arm.

She appeared less than an inch from my face, hatred contorting her beautiful face. "Stop saying that. You aren't sorry. No one is sorry." She spat. With lightening quick movements, she gripped my shoulders, shaking me. "_You aren't sorry! You're a liar! Liar, liar, liar! All of you are! You are **just like** **him**!_" Her fist should have gone right through me, but it somehow connected with the side of my head, slamming me sideways towards the ground. My face scrunched in pain as blood began leaking from my arms again. Darkness crept into the edges of my vision, dragging me into torturous visions.

* * *

I must've screamed loud enough to wake the entire island as family and friend and foe turned on me, each inflicting their own type of pain. I surely had screamed loud enough that someone heard, because I was being shaken roughly. I began to cry harder, cringing away from the cold. With a fierce shout of my name, I woke. A pale, familiar face watched me, exceptional blue eyes stretched wide with fear. I continued to stare, terror sweeping over me.

Gentle, Alexander's brow furrowed slightly. "Bree...? Bree, please, say something! I heard Felix mention Winter Woods and I came as soon as I could get away when I couldn't find you. Fox is covering for me with Slightly. Bree, come on, you're scaring me."

I shook my head, hoarse cries of pain falling from my mouth as I clung to him, shaking with each loud gasp for breath. The ache in my chest subsided (just barely, but I felt it). Alexander was still my friend. He stilled cared about me, even if it meant going against Peter's orders and wishes. "You shouldn't have come." I told him between hiccups. He shook his head, starting to interrupt. "He'll kill you for this, Alex. He'll kill us both."

Alexander's gaze hardened a fraction as he helped me to my feet. "So let him," He caught me as my knees buckled, lifting me into his arms like I weighed nothing while my head spun. "He can't kill me twice."

I held to him as best I could, hating that my blood was staining his throat and cloak. "What do you mean?" I whispered softly, resting my head against him carefully. The left side still throbbed (along with the rest of me) from his sister's attack. He glanced at Peter's name on my arm, a flicker of anger and pain lighting his eyes.

"I died the day he murdered Violet." Alexander continued to carry me, remaining silent as I thought.

Violet. The name didn't seem to fit the violent, spiteful girl that had battered me. I felt a deep sorrow for both Alex and her as I realized that she couldn't have started like that. Alexander held his twin in such a brilliant light, spoke her name so tenderly, there wasn't a plausible way she had been like that when she lived. Peter had done that to her. The island had done that to her.

I decided to keep her appearance to myself, not wanting to hurt Alex any more than he was. "You can't carry me into camp. He'll know. He probably already knows." I insisted, praying he would see reason.

"Then I'll leave you near his hut. Imagine his surprise when you show up there, living and breathing. I'll loop back around so it looks like I came from the beach. He trusts me enough it should work." He shrugged easily, not concerned in the slightest. I bit my lip.

"Alex, I don't want you hurt. You're my best friend. I can't bear to think of losing you." He smiled sadly, shaking his head.

"Bree, he can't hurt me. I'm not as alone as you think. I have people who would protect me, who would fight for and with me. I'll handle Pan, you find the Spring Water he keeps in his hut and fix yourself up. I know you have magic, even if you don't. I've lived here too long to not recognize a magical being. Just try hard enough and it'll come to you like breathing after that." I didn't bother telling him he was wrong. Everything hurt too much to argue. I sighed, letting my eyes shut.

"Don't take unnecessary risks, is all I'm saying. You're too important." I didn't get to hear his response because I had drifted off already.

* * *

When I finally woke I was carefully tucked into the bed in Peter's hut, my wounds tightly bound and a canteen of water sitting beside my head and dagger on the nightstand. A small piece of paper was tucked under the blade. I reached for it curiously, moving slow to ease the pain. I unfolded the parchment to find unfamiliar handwriting.

**Bree,**

**I carried you up since the path is covered in Dreamshade. Be careful; don't come outside. Pan thinks you're dead for now, and it needs to stay that way as long as it can. Drink the canteen -it'll heal you. The scars will stick since Pan made them with his dagger, but it's the best we can do. You need to drink the whole thing quickly. The Dreamshade is moving slow, but it was nearly on your shoulder when I left you. I poured some of the water into your cuts when I bandaged you up, so it should be slowed down. Stay safe, and I'll see you soon.**

**\- Alex**

* * *

**A/N: I honestly love Bree and Alexander's friendship. Alex is awesome. You may remember Pan's note being italicized instead of bolded, and that's just because the two Boys have different handwriting. Pan writes with a more calligraphy/cursive-esque style is all. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! It was one of my favorites to finish! Bluemoon, over and out~**


	23. Chapter 22: A Stranger's Memories

**A/N: I know it's been a little over two weeks, and I'm sorry, but I promise nothing can make me give up on this story. I'm too invested in it now to give up. If I can only promise that, then I will. I swear to you guys, this story isn't going away, even if I do for extended periods of time. School is stressing me beyond belief, and it'll be worse next year, but I'm continuing this story -no matter what. With that bout of seriousness out of the way, let's get on with the chapter, shall we? Twenty-Two, ladies and gents!**

* * *

Now making it my personal priority to be wary of any and all unidentified liquids, I peered at the inside of the canteen for a measured few seconds. I could feel the ache forcing through my veins; it was like having a piece of bread lodged in your throat as you swallow hard to coax it down your gullet. I gave the crystalline fluid a sniff, relieved beyond measure that it appeared to be plain water. I began guzzling it, parched. A tightening sensation spread over my arms and temple, making me wince sharply. Clawing off the blood-soaked bandaging Alex had so expertly wrapped over my forearms, I stared in awe, jaw slack as the skin seemed to pull together, closing itself miraculously. Throwing back the heavy, off-white duvet I stumbled to the rectangular, beveled mirror propped in the makeshift bathroom. The skin that had previously been split along the dip in the side of my head sealed itself as well, becoming clean once more. _For a ghost, she sure can hit hard..._ I thought somberly, my fingers dancing over the new skin delicately.

My hair had become an unruly mess, but, luckily, the materials Peter had left when I was last trapped here were still scattered about the hut. A deep-set need to bathe properly and tame my mass of curls sprung to life. Remembering Alex's firm confidence that I was magic, I gripped the edges of the wooden bathing tub, closing my eyes tightly. The feeling Peter had left after he healed my injuries from Tinkerbell's attack shivered to life along my spine, sending a wave of warmth through me as I focused. If I had bothered to look in the mirror I would've seen the flash of dark purple in my irises as I flexed my fingers. Not believing it was all true, I inhaled deeply, spreading my palms wide over the empty basin. "Water...?" I murmured hesitantly, peeking at the still bone-dry tub with a sinking disappointment. "Water..." Frowning, I dropped my arms to my sides, glaring at the item as if it was wrong for confirming my own assumption. Sighing, I shook my head at the silliness of it all. I waved my hand at the basin in annoyance, not noticing the zinging sparks of energy spreading over my back. "I told them I wasn't magic. No one ever _listens. _I can't just say 'Water!' and make it appear, now can I-"

My mouth dropped open in surprise as a small amount of steaming liquid appeared in the bottom of the half-barrel. Curling my fist to my chest, I stared at the tub, eager as a child in spring. Spreading my hand wide once more, I focused on the tingling sensation pooling at the base of my spine, waiting impatiently to be used. "Water!" I ordered, fixated on the puddle I had previously created. As if pleased with my development, the puddle turned into a moving organism, spreading and growing till it filled the wooden basin nicely. A short laugh of happiness slipped from my mouth, rippling the surface of the steaming water with my breath.

I quickly located the Gardenia-infused bar of soap and the scrubbing brush, placing each closer for easy access. I shed my tattered clothing quickly, sinking into the bath with a contented sigh. It was just warm enough to be soothing, but a hair away from too hot. I grinned, appeased with my luck. I wouldn't stop to ponder if I was a witch. I had firmly imposed the idea that it was just left over magic clinging in my blood from the Spring Water and Peter's large amount of healing -and nothing would convince me otherwise till many nights later.

* * *

I had taken my time scrubbing off blood, dirt, sweat, and other manners of filth. Scrubbing the palm of my hand with soap and dripping water onto it formed a semi-effective cleanser for my hair. The towel had been left as well, so I dried and dressed, leaving the shredded green peasant blouse on the floor. My brown undershirt had suffered mild singeing but appeared otherwise wearable. The lovely cargoes I had worn for the entirety of my stay were now torn at the knees and discolored from dirt and blood. Operating on small tasks, I began to comb the entire hut for a spare shirt, jacket -anything other than the cloak Alexander had thought to be mine and hung at the foot of the bed. I reasoned that the magical scrap had bound to of worn out by now, meaning I was normal once more. It was a feeble argument, but it was better than believing the scandalous thought that I was anything close to Peter (or even the Queen from my village).

I tore open the nightstand, scraping my nails over the edges as I attempted to lift the false bottom. What else could Peter have been hiding in there? Letters and seemingly random knickknacks made finding the small half-circle hole in the back difficult, yet I managed. Carefully balancing the precarious amount of heavy items atop the slab of wood, I set it on the bed, scanning the hidden contents of the nightstand. I counted plenty small vials, a lilac ribbon, a few envelopes with curling, delicate cursive, and buried amongst it all, my dagger. Fuming, I snatched the heirloom out of the mess, running my fingers over it. The intricate metal sheath had protected the razor-sharp blade well, preserving the silver etchings in the Stygian iron. A heavy sigh fell from me. It had been under my nose the entire time, and I hadn't been smart enough to look for it. He probably loved that; he would've been downright gleeful to be able to hold this secret card up his sleeve. I clutched the precious item close, flooded with relief. Not only did I have the only remaining piece of my mother back, I had a weapon.

Tucking the cold metal into my waistband at the curve of my back, I withdrew one of the letters. Squinting at the unfamiliar script, I was able to decipher an address from a village I didn't know to be anywhere near the Queen's castle. My adventurous traveling friend, Will, had taught me to read maps, educating me as much as he could during his brief stays in town. I felt a pang of loneliness as I thought of him, wondering if he would miss me. Opening the aged envelope, I sat beside the pile on the bed, narrowing my eyes to make out words from the incredibly girlish penmanship. Much of the letter had been blurred by water damage, but bits and pieces were legible. I gathered that it was some sort of affectionate note, like that exchanged between close friends. The bottom had been clearly torn, preventing me from knowing the sender. I set the paper aside, uninterested, and stared at the plethora of notes that sat on the false bottom beside me.

None of them appeared to have an address, but most had a sharper, leaning writing on them in comparison to the sweet note Peter had hidden away. Blankly, I stared at the foreign words spread across the page, dumbfounded. There seemed to be urgency in the writing, as if it was rushed, but that was as much as I could fathom concerning the strange language. I flipped through several others to the same effect till I came upon one in English.

_Peter,_

_I hope your adventure is faring well. Titania is not entirely pleased, but her anger has been subdued at the very least. Please take care of Never Neverland, it took a lot of magic -as you well know- to create it. Remember the rules you laid down upon its conception, as a failure to abide by them could result in the entire island collapsing slowly. Neverland is magic, just as you now are. It requires careful tending to remain flourishing (even if you just have to wish it to remain healthy) it will need your constant attention. In your last letter you said it was to be a home for wayward children like yourself, correct? You will want to find a way to transport, house, and feed them. I can come along as assistance for old time's sake if need be. You've come a very long way since we first met in Kensington Gardens, my friend. Your boldness and courage have helped me so much. I cannot thank you enough for all you have done. You deserve to live forever on your island, and thankfully Titania has obliged to your wishes. She made it so the island is untouched by time and you along with it. You will never age so long as you live; you will be immortal as we fairies and pixies are. I wish you the best of luck in your endeavors, young Peter._

_With faith and trust,_

_Tinkerbell_

I had slumped over the letter, absorbing its contents like a hungry scholar. Whispering outside the window shot me to my feet, propelling me into action as if a fire had been lit under me. I quickly shoved the cursive letter and envelope back into the drawer, setting the false bottom over it just in time to hear the creak of the false trunk being lifted. I scrambled to shut the drawer and hide behind the partition wall, crouching in the far corner just as the trap door opened. A quiet voice hissed into the hut. "Miz Bree? Ah' ya there?" I startled the poor Boy as I jumped from behind the wall.

"Fox!" I whispered, a grin lighting my face. The ginger smiled broadly, pulling himself out the hole in the floor and dragging a sack with him. "It's so good to see you!" I wrapped my arms around him in a quick hug, earning a light tap on the back. Apparently all Lost Boys are uneasy with displays of affection. "What are you doing here?" I questioned, my worried gaze sweeping over him once to ensure he was in one piece.

"It's good t' see ya as well, Bree. 'M s' glad you're alive. Al had me bring some things for ya." Fox pulled at the drawstring, opening the animal-pelt-bag, pulling out a canteen and food wrapped with large Big Dipper Elephant Ear leaves. He set each item on the square tabletop, finally retrieving a thin throwing blade. "Ca'e'ful now. Tha's sharp." Fox nodded as he handed over the small weapon. "Al said ya'd need something 'n case anihthin were t' happen." I couldn't find the will to reply with sarcasm, so I thanked him instead, smiling brightly and tucking the blade into my pocket.

Fox blushed suddenly, averting his gaze to the floor as he noticed something. "Fox? What is it? What's wrong?" He cleared his throat awkwardly, shuffling his booted feet.

"Id's jus' tha' ya don't have much on, Bree... Al's tryin' ta find ya some clothes, buh id's harder than 'e thought." I blushed a brilliant scarlet, snatching Peter's cloak off the bedpost and wrapping it around myself. Mother would've been horrified and Father would've killed me before beheading Fox. The Boy's ears were tipped in pink. "My apologies."

I waved his condolences away. "It was my fault. I had just finished a bath, and I didn't know anyone was coming. Thank you for helping me, Fox. I know how dangerous it must be." He shook his head, lifting the trap door.

"'M glad ta help, Bree. You're my friend." As abruptly as he had appeared, Fox left, waving before letting the door fall shut. I turned to examine the food when the door creaked open again. "Oh, an' think a me when ya eat that steak, would ya?" I laughed, nodding as he left. Indeed, there was a carefully prepared steak (where they had gotten beef on the island was beyond me), fruit, and a roll of sweet bread. I closed my eyes, unable to help the prickling of tears. Brushing them away with the back of my hand I quickly ate, murmuring a quiet thanks for my friends and current fortune.

* * *

Sleep had remained ever elusive as my mind stampeded situation after terrible situation through me. I resorted to reading the letters that I could from Peter's plethora of parchment. Tucked in the far back underneath the ribbon and a silver bell was a piece of paper without an envelope. The parchment was heavier than the rest, and the ink seemed odd. A list of names was smeared onto the paper, written as if someone drew their finger through a rusty ink. I sniffed it, confirming my suspicion that the names were indeed written in a mixture of quill ink and blood. The names read like a childish role call, written in a mostly sloppy finger painting style. I assumed it went in order of importance, smiling despite myself at the way certain letters had been capitalized or looped in an attempt at cursive while others were simply made. I traced the names with my finger, unfamiliar with most.

**_Malcolm_**

The name held no place in my thoughts. I didn't know of any Lost Boy named Malcolm, but his name was at the very top. Had he been lieutenant before Felix? Was he the leader before Peter? I quickly scanned the list. Peter's name was no where to be found. If this was some kind of official list, why wouldn't Peter's name be on it along with the rest?Why would Peter hide the list in the first place? I reminded myself to ask Alex or Fox about a 'Malcolm' when next I saw them.

**FeLiX**

That one was obvious, yet it further solved to puzzle me. If Felix was on this list, why not his best friend?

_**RuFio**_

Another blank filled my head. I couldn't recall a Rufio at all. Much like Malcolm, I decided to pry for any information concerning the Lost Boy that I could.

**ALeXandeR**

Had Alex always maintained a high standing within Neverland's ranks? I smiled softly, pride for my best friend filling me momentarily.

**Tr_i_Sta_N_**

**_V_in_C_ent**

**J_i_m**

**J_a_m_e_s**

**_I_A_n_**

**G_a_brieL**

None of them held any sort of familiarity in my head after Alex, making me deeply perplexed. The final was drawn in a hand that tossed my thoughts back to the looping, water-marked letter I had first found. The longer I thought about it I recalled the paper faintly smelling of one particular flower.

**_Violet_**

The names had to be of either former or current Neverland residents. Determined, I turned to the pile of letters that were hidden beneath the false bottom. Leafing through them quickly, I searched for any more with an address similar to the first I had read. None contained any that were even faintly familiar. Frustrated, I huffed, staring at the pile forming around me. One name appeared on every envelope I could see: London. What was a London? Or, rather, _where_ was a London?

Moonlight was my only way of sight as I sorted the letters in order of the list of names. There were none written by a Malcolm, furthering my burning curiosity. I noticed that there was one letter for each name save for Violet. I assumed hers was the letter that was water-stained and torn. Starting with Felix, I began to pour over each paper, devouring their contents in hope of gaining new information. Anything that could be helpful at all was stored in my brain for later analysis and use. Each seemed to have the same outline and main purpose. The letters stated agreement to a voyage, eagerness from the sender, and a few vague pleasantries. I read over Alexander's, Rufio's, and Felix's the most. Felix's gave me a small scrap of information about Rufio, Alexander's gave me further insight to Violet and my friend, while Rufio's seemed oddly resistant. It appeared that Rufio and Felix were very close; it took much persuading for Felix to finally have Rufio agree as the latter elaborated firmly in his letter. The two would not go without each other. When I read over Jim and James' letters it appeared the same way. Gabriel's seemed overly thankful, repeating the boy's determination to prove he was worth the voyage multiple times.

Alex's was written with a friendly diction, making me think he was close to whomever he was writing to. I noticed none of the letters had a heading, and none ever mentioned a name other than the author's. He expressed his excitement for the upcoming adventure, speaking of Violet's joyous singing and packing in preparation for the trip. I paused, casting my thoughts to the shell of a girl I had encountered. It seemed impossible that she was one and the same as Alexander's cheerful, carefree twin.

Sleep began to drag at me as I folded the letters back into their envelopes, making my limbs sluggish and my lids heavier than the pull of the ocean. I settled the false bottom in its place before curling under the duvet, accepting the seemingly warm embrace of dreams. It's sad that they always turn cold once you're in too deep to leave.

* * *

Faces smiling brightly in dappling sunlight ran past me, creating a breeze that pulled at my skirts. I laughed, shaking my curtain of straighter-than-straight, blacker-than-night hair. My voice sounded lighter, odd to my ears. A sunny boy with hair as dark as my own took my hand, pulling me with him. His smile grew wider when he saw mine. "Alex, where are we going?" I found myself asking.

He chuckled, tossing his head back slightly. "With Malcolm, of course, or have you already forgotten? Come on, Vi, we need to hurry and catch up with the others!" He tugged my hand, leading me away from the sun-filled clearing of swaying wildflowers to the shadowy treeline. We paused at the edge, Alexander tilting his head to see the raven cawing in the treetops. "Ready?" He whispered, barely suppressing a smile brighter than any star in the sky. I nodded, giving his hand a squeeze. We plunged into the foliage, the white, lace-trimmed edge of my dress catching on reaching ferns as we raced to find the others.

"Alex- slow- down!" I gasped, stumbling in my tan sandals. The strap around my ankle was beginning to rub uncomfortably at my incredibly pale skin. He glanced back at me, never ceasing in his fleeting stride, never releasing his firm grip on my thin-boned hand. "Alex, please, _slow down!"_ I yelped, nearly falling over a raised root. Just as I began to tumble forward, we emerged into another, significantly smaller clearing. Night had fallen somehow, cloaking the area in shadow. A lone figure stood to one side, conversing with a tiny, green, floating light that chimed occasionally. A group of eight stood in the center of the meadow, all speaking in hushed, eager tones. Alex grinned, dragging me towards them.

A honey-blonde with deep brown eyes cracked a wide smile. "Still not much of a runner, Violet?" I frowned, inhaling deep lungfuls of the clean spring air. My hair tickled my face, smelling of the flower everyone was confusing me for.

A second, teasing voice chuckled from just behind the blonde's shoulder. "You didn't use to be either, Rufio."

Rufio laughed, lightly punching the tan boy in the shoulder. "You're a blasphemous liar, Vince. I've always been a runner, it's you that can't to save your mangy hide."

The second boy's dark eyes crinkled at the corners as he laughed, showing brilliant white teeth. His hair was a deep brown, sporting a strange streak of white within the way it swooped upward at the front. "Talk all you want, Rufe. You'll always be the least scary." He replied, an accent that reminded me of warm air, spicy meats, and welcoming parties till late in the night rolling his r's and hiding his b's. Vincent turned to a familiar boy with cold blue eyes and a pair of shining tomahawks at his belt, easing into light-hearted conversation with him effortlessly.

Felix slipped through the group, smiling faintly as he was greeted by several of the other boys. He stepped beside Rufio, his smile growing as he nodded to the other blonde. Rufio had crossed his arms, flashing a calming smile at the taller Boy. "Where have you been sneaking off to?"

Felix raised his brows, drawling his words in that irritating way of his. "Around. I didn't go far, Rufe, don't worry. I'm glad you two made it," Felix continued, nodding to Alex and I. "Doing alright, Violet? You look a little upset. I thought you'd be the happiest of us all tonight! We finally get to stay forever!" I felt confusion paint my face. Why would Felix be happy to see me? Why were all the strangers speaking to me with such a friendly nature? I peered suspiciously at Felix, nearly recoiling in shock when I saw that his face wasn't marred by a grisly scar anymore.

I glanced at the rest of the group, my eyes resting on two identical boys, skipping to a familiar, stout young Boy, and then a brunette. I opened my mouth to ask why I was here, why everything felt so odd, why everyone addressed me as Violet, but the boy standing alone spun sharply. Startled, I turned to stare only to be swallowed in shadows. A somber voice whispered in my ear, "He made it seem so happy..." before I was doused in cold.

Snow piled around me, falling quicker than my heart beat could thunder. I jumped to my feet, wrapping my arms around myself to block out the wet chill settling on my skin. My body didn't look right as I stared down at myself. Freckles dotted my arms, long fingers tipped in rounded nails of the perfect length clenched arms too thin. My hair wasn't right, a dress swished around my ankles in the palest of purples. I felt the bruising discoloring my skin. Everything about me was off.

Peter glared from his perch in a tree, scowling at me fiercely. "You lied," He snarled, eyes shining faintly. His voice shook unsteadily. "You swore we could live here forever. You gave me your _word_ we would always have fun. You said you didn't want to grow up, and you _lied_." Peter looked ready to scream, pain stressing his youthful features. "Why did you lie to me, Vi?" He whispered instead, dropping his gaze to his lap where a set of pan flutes lay.

"I didn't, Peter. We _must_ grow up, don't you see?" A voice too light and delicate to be my own pulled from my lips, the words forming themselves. "Everything becomes clearer when we do. We can be happy as grownups, too, _together_. We can't stay in Neverland forever, Peter. The others miss their mothers just as much as Alex and I. We can't pretend any more. We have to go _home_."

Peter dropped from the tree with a heavy thud, landing with his knees bent. His face was contorted from pain and hatred. "I will _not _grow up. There is _nothing_ you can do to make me." He hissed, throwing the set of pipes at my feet. _At Violet's feet, _I corrected myself, realizing what was happening. The island wasn't the only unwelcome thing stirring up nightmares for me. "You gave me your _word_ that you would never abandon me. I can't go back, even if I wanted to -which I _don't._ Neverland needs _me_, and _I_ need _you_. You _promised_. _All of you did__._" Peter accused, unshed tears making his eyes red.

This was the most vulnerable I had ever seen him, and for some reason it made me more afraid than when he was shouting or silent. The openness and blatant honesty he was pouring out scared me. This couldn't be Peter. Peter never let any inkling of weakness show. He was power, and deception, and force. He was cunning, and brave, and strong. This despondent child wasn't Peter. He was a stranger. A shaking voice laughed in my mind, whispering again. "He wasn't always like that..." I shivered, wishing the memories would cease. "Just a little longer, Bree..." The whisper promised, tickling my ear.

Curling his lip at me, Peter turned his back. "Fine, then. Go! Go away and _grow up_!"

"Peter-" Violet's voice began, her hand reaching out unsteadily.

"I said _go_, Violet. You're a traitor. I don't allow traitors on my island." The hand dropped to my side, trembling.

"_Your_ island?" Hurt raised the pitch of the already lilting voice emitting from my mouth. It disturbed me deeply; I was being possessed, or rather, trapped inside a ghost. Would that mean _I _was possessing _her_? "I thought you said it was _our_ island. For _all of us_. For me, Alex, You, Felix, Rufio, Vince-"

"His name is Tootles." Peter snarled, his back stiffening. "Tootles, Nibs, Curly, Twins, and Slightly. We chose our names, and that's who we are. I came back for all of you. I rescued you. You would've died in the streets without me."

"You think changing your name changes the fact that you disappeared for a year? You waltzed into our lives saying you could rescue us and then disappeared, Peter. You gave us hope for adventure and snatched it away. We were ready to leave our parents for you, and you abandoned us."

Betrayal lit his face, even if I couldn't see it. My words -Violet's words- cut him deeply. "I couldn't help it. I was trapped somewhere else. I took me ages to get used to traveling, and by then I didn't know if you all were still young enough for the magic to work. Do you think it was easy?" He quipped, anger lighting his face. This I could cope with. I secretly willed Violet to keep riling him up. I couldn't handle Peter in tears, it was too nerve-wracking, too painful.

Laughing humorlessly, Violet shook her head, tears beginning to drag across her pale face. "I want to go home. _Now._" Peter stared over his shoulder, shock widening his eyes.

The whisper returned, blurring the scene into faint screams and streaks of color. "He didn't let me. I had hurt him too much by taking back my word. I loved him too much -became too invested..." The translucent girl stood in front of me, her head bowed as she stared at things I couldn't see in the thickening mist. "You can't become like I was, Bree. He has secrets he hasn't told another soul, and it will kill you to find them out. You have to live. Alex can't lose you like he lost me." She took my hands in hers, causing me to flinch with the utter cold she exuded.

"He can change. You left him. You tried to kill me. Why should I trust you?" I countered, distrustful.

Disgust painted her face. "He's a _murderer_, you idiot! He kills for fun. He kidnaps children from their beds. Have you not heard the crying? They weep for their families, but they can never leave without his permission, and he will never let them. He _won't_ change. _Ever_. He's become something unrecognizable and horrid. He's dangerous. He will kill you, especially if he finds out you've been looting through his hut -and he will find out. He left you to die, and he won't accept you alive. Escape, _please_. If you haven't drank the water you can still escape." My face must have fell rapidly, because Violet dropped my hands, backing away. Her entire body seemed to shimmer. Her head shook wildly. "No. No, no, no, why would you do that? You stupid girl!" She hissed, aghast. "You-" Tears flowed down the ghost-girl's cheeks. "You're _dead_." She murmured ominously, disappearing.

I hadn't realized I was crying till a sneering face began taunting me for it. Andrew laughed, jabbing at me with his sharpened staff. "Dead! You're _dead_, Lost Girl! D-E-A-D!" He howled gleefully, dancing in a circle around me as I feebly dodged his attacks. "Luke's dead, dead, dead! You're dead, dead, dead!" Andrew cheered, not seeming to notice that _he_ was also not among the living. I covered my ears, dropping to my knees as he swung, hitting me from behind. I huddled in a pile on the misty ground, crying openly. Andrew continued his joyous dance, cheering louder as a burly, broad-shouldered form appeared from the fog.

Blaze grinned, wielding his machete with a sick enjoyment. "No one's here to save you, Princess. Pan can't rescue you. He thinks you're gone already. Alexander ain't around, either." I shook visibly, petrified of the two wicked Boys. I began to stand, stumbling backwards.

"Go away! Leave me be!" I shouted my face flushed. The two Boys exchanged questioning glances, turning towards each other as they deliberated.

Andrew's brow furrowed. "What do you make of it, Blaze? Pan would be so disappointed..."

Blaze crossed his arms, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I don't think she understands. She's _already_ alone."

Nodding, satisfied with their choice, the pair turned on me. I had enough time to scream with everything I had in me before Blaze swung with all his might. I tumbled backwards, tripping as I avoided his blade, yet I kept falling.

* * *

I awoke drenched in cold sweat, quaking worse than a leaf in a storm. I hugged my knees to my torso, rocking as I trembled fiercely. I swiped at my nose and eyes, swallowing to alleviate the lump and soreness lodged in my throat. Distressed, I tucked my head into my knees, curling into the corner of the bed against the wall. Fear spread through me like the wildfire had the jungle. I was never going to be safe again. Bringing Peter's cloak around myself once more, I struggled to light the lantern set on the nightstand, my hands shaking so badly I could hardly light a match. I sat in the bed, not able to sleep for the rest of the extensive night. Every whisper of the breeze against the lace curtains was another unwanted visitor trying to force their memories into my aching head. Any crackle of wood was a Lost Boy coming to chop me into tiny pieces. I stared at the opposing wall with wide, dead eyes for hours.

I almost didn't notice the shadow standing beside the window.

* * *

**A/N: I can't believe I had so much trouble starting this chapter and then it just poured out. This is officially the longest chapter in this story, and I honestly don't know what to make of it. It makes me really sad, but it scares me, but now I'm worrying about keeping the story line straight- Okay. There's a lot of things happening in this one. As Bree suspects, the list she found is the original Lost Boys, but the list was made when they all went to Neverland in their dreams. The memories Violet shows Bree are after Peter ***SPOILER FOR OUAT SEASON 3*** abandoned Rumple and became a boy again. Yes, Pan is Rumple's dad in this. I accept it, and baby Rumple is WAY TOO CUTE to be left out. **

*****SPOILER OVER*** I really wanted to keep writing, but this chapter decided to be done after dragging me behind it for three days. I hope everyone likes it! Bluemoon, over and out~**


	24. Chapter 23: Bedtime Stories

**A/N: I'm alive! Obviously, but... Never mind. I apologize for the long break, my computer got doused with ice water by a relative and we all believed it dead for awhile, but my wonderful baby is still kickin' after resting! I hope everyone's having a good day, and if you aren't, I hope this can make it better! I had to take a break to gather my plans for the future of this story and get some inspiration. Emphasis on _some, _because I'm not really certain how this'll play out yet. I suppose we'll just have to see and let the chapter go where it wants. That's what editing is for, after all! Mini-announcement: I might stop making the soundtrack for this on my profile, because it seems like no one but myself really cares. If you guys want me to continue it I will, just let me know! Chapter 23, lovelies!**

* * *

I shut my tired eyes forcibly, squeezing my face tight to hide from the detached gaze aimed at me. A solitary shiver tore through me. I didn't want to be seen. I didn't want to die, but I was sick of this existence. With my eyes shut and the breeze stilled I was able to hear the steady breathing of the demon poised in front of the window compared to the hindered rasping of my own. All of the screaming I had done in my sleep -and all of the shrieking in my waking hours- had made my throat scratchy and dry. Weakly, I swallowed saliva, attempting to soothe the mild pain. A soft exhale that seemed to be the ghost of a laugh penetrated the choking silence in the hut. Words seemed to fail both of us as my fear-widened eyes locked with his. I was still bundled in the corner of the bed against the wall, not making any attempts to move.

Peter stood tall and regal, his shoulders broad, his entire body lithe in the moonlight. The vivid emerald of his eyes was tinged with disbelief, guarded by discontent. He stared at me as if at a ghost. Under different circumstances I would've laughed, considering he probably thought I really _was_ a ghost come back to torment him. The quiet began to murder my ears like pillow lace, mounting so much that I heard the pounding of my heart and the pumping of blood in my ears. After a strained silence, Peter's head swung from side to side like a large feline's, as if he was discounting what his senses were telling him. A carefully crafted smirk pulled at his lips when he raised his head of brunet to meet my petrified eyes. "So, this is how it will be... Your will to survive is admirable, but you've chosen the wrong person to contend against."

I fancied the silence more, hating the biting way his speech was thrown at me. Careless, he surveyed the room for things misplaced, mapping my actions in his convoluted head. "I'm certain I don't know what you mean. I'd rather be dead." I whispered, dropping my wounded gaze to the rumpled bed sheets blankly. Peter paused, his scrutiny of the hut interrupted. I was a disheveled mess, but that couldn't have been what held his focus for so long. Slowly, Peter drew closer to the edge of the bed, his head tilted. A frown replaced the teasing grin, his mouth pouting slightly as he perched on the side of the mattress.

"You were meant to die, but you didn't. No one survives Winter Woods... Not alone." He murmured, inspecting me with a determined curiosity.

Apprehensive, I wished to disappear. "I wasn't alone." His face flickered with momentary fury, sliding back into detachment easily.

"Really? How interesting." Peter mumbled, bored with the subject already. This intensified my discomfort, as traitors were usually the most engrossing thing in Neverland to the King. He seemed fixated on the tears rimming my reddened eyes. Simply thinking of him was painful. Being this near him was unbearable torture. The friend I had once had was a lie; the assurance and hope he had been revealed to be counterfeit. I was promised a lifetime of happiness and given an eternity of anguish. I blinked hastily a few times, casting my gaze about for something other than him, for something untouched by his influence. The tears pooled over, trailing down my face in smooth tracks. Vexed, I reached to wipe away my sign of weakness only to be stopped by a firm hand. "Don't." He ordered absently.

I found that Peter had moved closer whilst I was preoccupied with my thoughts. He lowered my hand to the bed, watching me with sick fascination. I felt my lip tremble as I gave a quiet huff of distress. Narrowing his eyes in deliberation, Peter leaned closer, taking careful notice of every small change in my expression. "What are you playing at?" I demanded quietly, pressing myself firmly against the wall, snatching my hand away. Startled, I hid behind a mask of hatred and anger.

He drew back, cocking an eyebrow. "The same thing as always, Trinket." He replied smoothly, the nickname burying itself deep into my heart like an arrow. I attempted to conceal the bone-deep ache it stirred to life unsuccessfully. I imagine that even if I had Peter would've seen straight through me like he always did. "Who was it that saved you from my otherwise perfect plan?" He probed, suddenly intrigued.

Stony, I remained silent, pointedly ignoring his presence in favor of resting my head on my knees, staring towards the window where the lace curtains billowed like forlorn phantoms. Sensing the stubborn resolve behind my actions, Peter inched closer conspiratorially. "Let's make it a game. I ask something and you answer, then _you_ ask and _I_ answer. We have to answer any question asked completely and truthfully. Fair enough?" He offered, withholding a wide smile as I began to raise my head. I watched him for any sign of duplicity, nodding once. "I'll start. Who saved you?"

Mentally chastising Peter for failing to elaborate his question, I was able to tiptoe around the truth without lying. "Violet." I responded swiftly, unblinkingly, examining a groove in the wall. Peter's mask of calm enjoyment cracked, but he waited patiently for me to pose my query, never one to break the rules of a game. I would've applauded him for how well he hid the chaos underneath his faint smirk. "Why did you bring the others here? Killian and the Indians, I mean." I blinked tranquilly, still waiting for spirits to spring to life all around us.

Peter smiled at my cleverness, knowing we would both use this game to our full advantage. "Amusement, Trinket. That's what I've sought after for centuries. You'd think an island I wished into existence would have plenty of that, but it got lonely rather fast. So, I brought a few old friends, and then we went and found _new_ friends. Eventually, even the adventures we had seemed mundane to me. That's where Killian came into play. A former lieutenant on his brother's ship turned pirate after a... _tragic_ mishap. Long story made short, he needed to escape his crimes for good. I gave him what he wanted, but he was still dissatisfied." Perturbed, Peter glanced at me. "You're very much the same way in that aspect. I've found that people can rarely be happy with what they imagine they want, and even if they are, they cannot handle the price. The Tribe arrived a few months after, causing trouble and engaging the younger Boys. I employed Killian, allowing him brief trips into your world to attain what he wished and then calling him back." He finished, flashing me a brief, toothy grin. I was astonished that he had given me so much information for such a lax question, but I knew he must've been planning on forcing a story out of me as well, so I braced myself. "What did you dream about when Felix was carrying you and while you were in your cage?"

"None of your business." I snapped, curling my fingers into fists. My mind was my only remaining refuge. He wasn't going to get it that easily. Peter tutted lightly, grinning.

"That's against the rules, Trinket. You have to answer the question -and it is my business, since it happened on my island."

Scowling faintly, I crossed my arms tightly, hugging myself as I began the shaky story, purposely being vague. "I dreamed about a lot of things... My father, the garden, Will, my mother... I dreamt about Luke, and home, and the Lost Boys, and-" I broke off, averting my gaze back to the stitching on the duvet. Peter caught my hesitation, filling the gap in my list with a smile.

"And me." He extrapolated, his eyes dancing with mischief. "Continue the story, Trinket."

I winced inwardly, clenching my jaw. "A great many things happened. You haven't specified, so you couldn't possibly expect me to tell it all-"

"I can and do." Peter hummed, practically beaming. I squirmed under his perusal, restless. "_Continue_." He commanded with just enough threat in his pleasant tone to warn me against ignoring him.

Inhaling deeply, I traced a swirling pattern of thread. It looped under my finger, giving life to a radical realization. "No." I lifted my eyes to his, bolstering myself against his wrath. The outrage at being cheated aged him in reverse; his scowl could've been that of a toddler's -if said toddler was a lethal weapon in body alone, never mind wits and words. "I answered your question. You didn't ask for -_or implicate_\- the need for details when you posed the original question. Therefore," I folded my hands crisply in my lap, raising my chin. "It's my turn." Peter bristled, his guard raising when he realized I wasn't half as feeble as he had anticipated after surviving death. I was tenacious as ever on the surface, even if my insides were knotted, shattered, and screaming. I would need to find where all this courage was spouting from; it was most useful and dangerous.

Peter's glee turned to apprehension as he leapt to his feet, following my lead. I had to find something to use against him -something that would land a heavy blow, fast. Angry suspicion rolled off him in waves, charging the air thickly. I lifted the false bottom just enough to pull the names out. "Peter isn't even your real name, is it?" I accused, holding the parchment close to his face for inspection. Abhorrence crossed his face as the list came into view; a flicker of something reminiscent of fear flashed behind his eyes. "You're a liar, Malc-" His entire weight slammed into me, knocking the lantern to the floor with a crash of shattering glass and clattering metal. The wind from impact had graciously blown out the flame, so the hut didn't set ablaze; I didn't think I could handle any more fires near me. I felt calloused fingers closing around my throat while his hand covered my mouth. Startled, I scraped at his hands feebly, losing oxygen as his grip tightened. The tangle of butterflies in my stomach became a swarm as the world became less sharp, less clear.

The light had been flushed completely from his face and eyes. His pupils appeared three times as large as before, swallowing his irises completely and then some. "_That name will **never** be applied to me again. Do you understand, **Trinket**_?" Peter snarled, his face not even an inch from mine. Livid rage contorted his entire body into an efficient killing mechanism, pressing me backwards against the nightstand. Panic made my storm blue eyes the size of teacup saucers in my stark white face. Woozy, I struggled for air, feeling the dangerous amount of force he exerted on my throat with one hand. I feebly attempted to pry his right from my neck, but he tightened his grip. Terror-stricken, I nodded my head rapidly, earning the release of my throat. With a disgusted curl of his lip, Peter threw me to the side, my raven curls whipping my face. I landed with my hands in a pile of oil-slick glass. Fresh tears of pain sprung to eye as I gasped for air and relief, trembling horribly whilst I quickly set about removing each shard.

Peter paced a few feet away, agitated. Fury made his shoulders tense. I whimpered as I dug into a gash, extracting a thin sliver. I blinked hard, raising my head to try and force back the onslaught of tears. Sneering, Peter narrowed his jet-black gaze. "Don't be so _pathetic_. It's only _glass_. You should be praying I don't rip your lying tongue out and poison you, not sniveling like a _child _over a few _scrapes_." Indignant, I bit into my lip, drawing blood as I yanked the last piece free from my mangled palms. Blood pooled over my pant legs and arms. I looked like a baby after gruesome finger painting. Still dizzy, I massaged my throat, wincing at the pain in my hands and neck. "You should be dead." He hissed, practically shivering with the weight of his wrath contained inside. Even in my half-blurred state I could see his blatant want to harm me, to ensure his order was followed irrefutably. "You _deserve _to die." Peter breathed, the loathing dripping from his words in the chill of the hut.

_Yes, courage is a_ beautiful_ thing to die for. Might as well pitch a tent in the middle of Winter Woods! Perhaps have tea and scones with Andrew whilst we're poking the proverbial bears! _I mentally berated myself.

Slowly, I pulled myself to my feet, skirting the leftover pieces of the fallen lantern in favor of standing near the foot of the bed, wishing I had bothered to lace my boots back on. Blood smeared over the bed knob, sluggishly dripping to the white fabrics stacked over the mattress in a lush pile. "You've killed thousands, yet I'm a criminal?" I challenged softly, my mouth parted slightly as I fought to control my ragged breathing. His gaze narrowed again threateningly. Predatory, he took his time walking to face me. Shaken, I clutched tight to the bedpost, my knuckles white. Afraid, I shook my head, leaning away. "You don't want to hurt me, Peter. You don't have to-"

He laughed once bitterly, roughly grasping the back of my neck with a hand. "Oh, but I do, Trinket. I _really _do." His heavy lashes shut once as he blinked, glowering. I swallowed a blockage in my throat, my nails scratching the gorgeous gold-brass knob. Trapped, I tensed beneath his grasp, clenching my jaw. His fingers dug into a sensitive portion of my neck, forcing a gasp of discomfort from my lips. "I want to bleed you out, and sever your connection to _this_ world _and_ yours." He forced me back a half-step, livid fury contorting his face into one of an avenging, fallen angel. "I want to carve my name into every inch of your skin, so even when you're gone, you'll know that I own you. I will take away _every _little thing you cherish and hold dear, and I'll finish each off in front of you. I'll make you play my games until you've become something you hate, and then I'll send you away to be forgotten in the Woods, but this time, I'll make certain the life leaves your pretty little eyes before I do." Peter promised quietly, his voice heavy with intent.

Chilled to the bone, I shivered, shoving him away and nearly doubling over with the ache that shot up my limbs, stemming from my maimed palms. "Oh, really? I seem to recall you never following through with similar promises before." That damned bravery -more like idiocy- reared its head, urging the taunts forward. "I seem to recall 'dying' without _any_ of your previous little threats intact. Try and take away something I love, _I dare you_." Peter narrowed his gaze, his lips parting for speech. His body moved supplely, barely, rippling to a hunter's stance, prepared to strike. "But, you wouldn't, would you?" I interrupted smoothly, feeling my confidence grow with each syllable. "We both know you won't do it! You're just as feeble, and afraid, and _lost_ as those poor boys out there that you've _stolen_." I gestured through the window, not risking turning around for fear of being attacked by the Boy King I was mocking. "All those nights I spent unconscious, hearing crying -_weeping_\- children wishing for their mothers, they meant nothing. They meant _nothing_, if only because I never did anything to soothe their terrors. Never once did it occur to me that just by being there I could protect them. _You_ are the monster they fear so. _You _are their nightmares." I accused, shaking with sudden loathing I couldn't place nor pin down. Peter worked his jaw, staring me down spitefully. He knew there was something left on the tip of my tongue, and he wasn't going to be surprised no matter what, not by a Trinket.

A breeze swirled through the room, stirring the names that had fallen to the floor. My gaze and Peter's fell to it simultaneously. "Violet showed me what you did. What you said. You promised them a place to be safe and happy, forever... Tristan, Vincent, Jim, James, Ian, Gabriel... How many of them are still alive?" Peter's black eyes remained fixated on the old parchment, most likely noticing that I had purposely left Alex, Felix, Violet, and Rufio off of my list. "You _lied_. You make Neverland out to be a paradise, but it's a _hell_." I snarled, my fingers itching to curl into fists and connect with Peter's handsome features.

Disdainful, his brow arched, a prelude to the sneer settling on his mouth. "You believe this audacity and recklessness will sway me? Do you honestly think you can trust _anything_ that _anyone_ on my island says? Everyone here is willing to use you to further their own gain, even your _precious_ Alexander. I thought you would've learned as much by now!" Peter rolled his eyes, sullying my best friend's good name just by speaking it. Every move he made was to advance his antithesis, to make his word incontrovertible. "As for my Boys, they're all loyal. If fear is what keeps them that way like you're suggesting, then so be it. Those _children_ you've listed, they aren't Lost Boys." He shook his head lightly, tilting it to the side as he did so. A wolfish grin was dancing at the edges of his razor-sharp words, waiting to tear into me and relish each drop of crimson life. "They were pawns, experiments. Nibs, Tootles, Twins, Curly, Slightly -those are _proper_ Lost Boys. A few of the _original _Lost Boys." I began to state that they didn't even have real names, irritated by his calm eradication of my argument, but a twitch of his fingers warned me against any movement or vocalization. Peter was on a warpath, and he wouldn't hesitate to destroy me if I got in the way anymore.

Peter continued to cut items off my list, breaking my fight into a puny try at nothing. "I could efficiently eliminate anyone you've even _spoken_ to if the mood so struck me, so, be wise, and do attempt to not goad me. As for doing nothing, that is your own fault. Never once did I stop you from going to the tents or the tree huts to comfort the young ones. I let you coddle the little Davies Boy without complaint, did I not? You had every chance the others had had to be a '_mother_' for them," Revulsion at the word was clear in his voice. Such adult things were blasphemous to even think of on Neverland's soil. "But you were the one who didn't take it. You were too absorbed in _forgetting_. Forgetting home, forgetting Andrew, forgetting your place," A cruel smirk twisted his mouth enticingly. Peter laughed softly through his nose. "Even forgetting your _sweet_, little _Luke_." Pain flooded me as he spat the name. I recoiled, my mouth parted in shock and disgust as he barreled on, elated to have found a chink in my armor. "How betrayed he must've felt, wherever the poor thing is! His big sister, his damned _hero_, disgracing his memory, because she took her eyes off of the original goal!" Peter spread his arms, giving me a knowing look as he watched me crumble.

Tears stung my eyes worse than the spear Andrew had driven in my shoulder. Pain convulsed in my chest worse than the Dreamshade Peter had rubbed over my arm. I felt it tearing through me, shredding my guise of strength. The ache in my hands was nothing, the burns from before were nothing, the hours of running the woods were nothing, nothing compared to the searing, rolling, bone-breaking _agony_ coursing through me. In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to hurt Peter Pan, to reach into his soul and drag forth the most world-shattering memory of his possible and grind it into his face. I had nothing on him close to such torture other than 'Malcolm'. In that half-heartbeat between thoughts and action, I decided the only way to live long enough to hurt Peter was to learn. Still shaking, I clutched at my chest, realizing how bare I must've seemed to him. My pain began to distort into fury, boiling just beneath my skin as I listened carefully to every word he uttered, assessing every minuscule twitch of his. "You've failed your _brother_, you've failed your _parents_, and -most importantly- you've failed _yourself_, Trinket." Peter hissed, sneering. "By all accounts you shouldn't even be alive. You weren't meant to last this long."

Swallowing thickly, I lifted my damp eyes. "Then I suppose I've exceeded your expectations,_ Peter Pan. _They'll tell stories of the Lost Girl that outsmarted the King_ long_ after I'm dead." I taunted, feeling that delicious tingle of adrenaline across my back flow down my arms into my fingertips. My fingers rippled into fists, and in my riled state I didn't register the lack of ache bursting from where the shards had jammed into my palms. "I'll be a martyr if you kill me. Nothing you do can reverse the impact I've left."

The arrogance in his posture and eyes raised a level to hide the rest of his emotions, whereas I had to feign the confidence on my exterior. Peter's lips twisted into a feral smile that looked more like he was bearing his teeth. "What 'impact' have you left, really? You played your part wonderfully in every game I laid out. You ran like a scared little girl, never once thinking to fight back. The only scrap of merit you had with the Boys after your first brawl with Andrew is long gone. They all either pity you, ignore you, or want you dead for being such a nuisance." He declaimed scornfully, narrowing his eyes. I clenched my fists tighter, matching his glare to buy myself time. I had no response ready, no argument to fire back. Peter took advantage of my hesitance, pouncing on the chance to further humiliate me. "You're worse than Violet, at least she had them all at her beck and call with her innocence and eloquence." I stiffened, clenching my jaw. I couldn't hit him. It would escalate. He had magic. I was tired, drained, and reeling from shock. There was no way I could win a physical fight.

A malicious intent conjured the harsh words on my tongue. "She had you wrapped around her finger, didn't she? Used you like a little _pet_, I'd wager." My lips curved at the corners as my anger built. "You were a pawn -like those boys you stole away. She didn't care about you. No one does." I titled my head slightly, watching his eyes intently, scanning the stiffness in his shoulders, observing the hateful scowl on his mouth. "You were _nothing_ and _no one_ before you were Peter Pan, weren't you?" I questioned, layering a false tone over my burning curiosity. Peter seemed to shift. There was no visible sign he had moved (or even blinked), but the room was suddenly colder, the energy in the air spiked with violent hostility. Malevolent, I ignored the warning glinting in his eyes, barreling on. "Who was he, the boy you were? Did his parents not coddle him, so now he steals children away out of spite? Was he Peter?" I swallowed, the words falling from my lips before I could stop them. "Was he Malcolm?" Peter seemed to disappear as the first syllable of the forbidden name was uttered, and as I finished -realizing he was gone- he was on top of me, his blade drawn and poised over my throat as I screamed once in surprise and pain.

Seething enmity, Peter heaved in breaths, no longer a calm, cocky youth, but a brutal, deadly Lost Boy. I struggled, writhing on the smooth floor in an attempt to throw him from my torso. I stared up at him, the mounting fear in my eyes clear as his own became a feral black, his pupils wide. He held me down, barely registering the feeble efforts I made. His blade pressed against my neck as he swallowed the bile in his throat, his voice coming out dangerously low and shaking. "Do you want to know why I disposed of Violet? Do you want to know about the Boy that started our feud with the pirates and savages? Maybe you'd like to sit and talk about _feelings_, hm?" At my silence he nicked my skin, demanding an answer as the blood rolled down to stain the floor. My voice had left me when I landed on the wood planking, but he must've seen the curiosity buried under my terror. "I'll tell you about her, a final bedtime story. She looked so much like you, as I bet you've noticed, but she was so much more delicate. Her mother had raised her to be a respectable English lady, yet no suitors had ever asked for her hand, despite her obvious beauty and grace. Some of the Boys think Alexander had a hand in protecting her, but it was because she had already met me, and no peasant boy from London could compare. I was her entire world, just a step behind her _precious _brother." He rolled his eyes, his hand tightening reflexively around my wrist as he pinned it to the floor.

"Violet swore she was ready to die for me. She gave me her _word_ that she would stay with me, and she _lied_." I could feel the bone-deep betrayal Peter felt through the shaking of his blade and arms. He inhaled, his anger finally boiling over. "She was a liar, just like the rest of them. All of those girls Shadow brought," Detest for the dead rolled off him in waves, surprising me. "Each one was supposed to be better than the last. Each one _swore_ she'd escape, that she didn't believe, and they all lied. None of them could play the game right. When you showed up looking like a ghost of her sent to mock me, becoming the perfect player in every game, I hated you. I wanted to slit your throat right then and there for even daring to set foot on my island, and sometimes I still do." He confessed, piquing my anxiety as his jet-black gaze fell to the blade. "You looked at me with this defiant hatred and familiarity, as if you knew me so well. You looked at me the way she had when I upset her, and for some reason that made me hesitate."

Staring at the blood trickling from under his weapon, Peter fell silent for a moment. I felt it pooling slowly, staining my arm and hair. Inhaling deeply, he blinked firmly, restraining himself. "I had to get rid of her when she broke her word. She was poisoning the others' minds -weakening the island _and_ myself in the process. Neverland is an extension of me," Peter explained, noting my confused expression. "If anything happens here, I can feel it. I can sense arrivals, departures, emotions, powers, dangers... All of it. Nothing leaves the island without my permission, nothing happens without me knowing. Violet tried to leave and take several of the Boys with her. She betrayed me, and so I ended her. I wasn't fool enough to let her live to hurt me again. She had bad form, trying to cheat the game like that. I don't condone cheaters, traitors, or liars, and she was all three..." Peter muttered with a sense of finality, his eyes flicking to me for a response like a feline.

Still careful to not breath deeply (lest the weapon cut me again), I blinked the tears forming out of my eyes. "Did you love her?" I whispered, watching the practiced revulsion fill his face.

"Of course not. Don't ask stupid questions, Trinket. They waste what little patience I have." He snapped, not even pausing to truly contemplate my question.

"Peter," I murmured, a flicker of pity disrupting the adrenaline, fright, and anger warring inside me. "It's okay to admit it. She obviously meant something to you-" His gaze cut into me threateningly, efficiently stopping my gentle chiding. "What about the other story? You mentioned one more." I entreated, hoping to slowly bring him away from wanting to kill me without having him dissolve into the weeping child I both hated and feared.

Peter's gaze lit with energy once more, the blade abruptly flicking upward, away from me. "Well, since you've been a good Lost Girl and listened, I suppose I can tell you another..." He shifted, pulling me to my feet smoothly. He gestured for me to sit in one of the chairs beside the table while he perched atop the heavy chest at the foot of the bed. Peter's long fingers gripped the lid tightly, as if he was afraid it would fly open and throw him at any moment. Unsettled, I smeared the blood that was on my arm, marveling at the way it dyed my fingers. I wondered why Peter suddenly felt so talkative, why he was telling me 'bedtime stories'. Was it simply because he enjoyed hearing himself talk, or was he trying to intimidate me? Was it because he felt the need to finally tell someone these stories (someone who would listen to his side without prejudice or irritating awe), or was it just to show what he was capable of?

"Was it Rufio?" I questioned, recalling the letters. My fingers were knotted so tightly my knuckles were white. "Is that why Felix loathes Killian? It's the only thing I could think of... What happened to him?"

Peter settled himself into a more lax position, sliding from aggressor to storyteller with ease. Tension left his shoulders temporarily until my prying quires would rile him again. "Yes, it was Rufio. He was Felix's brother, his senior by a year, and my second-in-command. Rufio was the one who made people feel safe on Neverland. He taught the younger ones when they were having a hard time. He was the one that made everyone laugh. A few of his things are in here. A few things we were able to salvage..." Peter tapped the chest. "It was during a battle where we were being assaulted on both flanks. The pirates from the main beach, closer to the Mirror Pools, and The Tribe from near the Echo Caves and Mermaid Lagoon. One minute we were just waking, the next we were running to the western beach to defend a patrol they were going to ambush. Everything was peaceful the night before. It was almost too calm, and I allowed myself to indulge in ignorance, ignoring the nagging feeling I had. Shadow had gone out at dusk to scout the island, and before dawn he was flying back to warn me of advances from the East South East and West North West. I didn't know what to make of it, but I gathered everyone and we left without even thinking up a plan."

Sensing more than hearing my astonishment that he, of all people, hadn't planned, Peter clarified. "We didn't think it was serious, you see. Most skirmishes with The Tribe never are -just little spats to entertain the young ones. With the pirates it was almost always an easy win; they viewed us still as inexperienced children and hadn't gone against us often enough to know better. We had Tink on our side as well, because she hadn't yet left camp to live alone at that point." He glanced up to see if I understood, and I quickly nodded, eager for him to continue despite the dread settling in my stomach.

His voice seemed almost too stirring, his words falling as if he had spoken them so often he had memorized every syllable. An infinitesimal whisper of deceit was buried underneath his evocative speech, so well hidden I almost swore it was my imagination. "I was so proud of my Boys that day. They fought like a host of a thousand, even though we couldn't have been more than a rabble of _fifteen_. We were nearly overwhelmed, but once they saw how serious of a battle it was they didn't hold anything back. They fought valiantly, like true Lost Boys." Peter rolled his neck as if it was stiff, not releasing his death grip on the chest.

"I lost sight of Rufio for a few seconds. Just a few. I kept an eye on everyone when battle was thick like that, and it was a massacre that day. The sand was stained scarlet, blood pooling and mingling underfoot. The sky seemed to reflect that, turning this bruised, vivid shade of red and purple while the sun rose. It was still early in Neverland's history, so I wasn't as in control of the time of day and weather. I wasn't as adept at listening to the island either. Something in me knew that we wouldn't all make it out alright. I knew something was going to happen to alter us forever, but I let him alone for a few heartbeats, figuring if Felix was holding his own a second ago that Rufio certainly was. My blade was locked with Tiger Lily's damned weapons, and she was giving me this look of utter, soul-encompassing hatred, as if I had committed a horrid crime against her. I needed a few heartbeats... Just enough to break away and land a blow..." Peter wet his lips, painting the scene vividly with his words. I could almost taste the sea-spray, could almost see the battle in front of me as if I was there.

He drew his bottom lip between his teeth faintly, his gaze becoming more distant and clouded than before. "All I heard was this... _sickening_ crack, and the squish of the blood and muscles, then Rufe screamed in such a way that it made the hair on your arms stand straight up and your blood curdle like cheese. Everything seemed to stop, _everyone _just... _Stopped_. Tiger Lily didn't even try to attack me when I put my back to her. She just let me go... Alex was frozen, but Felix... Felix is one of the strongest, most imperturbable people I know, but he nearly collapsed to his knees." Peter blinked, shaking his head as if he still couldn't fully believe it. I had subconsciously slumped forward, my elbows resting on my knees so I was closer. "Felix ran to Rufio's side, shock holding the tears at bay until he saw the full extent of the wounds. I went to Felix's side, watching from a safe distance, watching my best friends, watching _Hook... _Somewhere behind me I heard Tink give this cry that sounded like someone had run her heart through, like her whole world was being torn down around her. I was shocked -none of us had ever been injured anywhere near that seriously before. It looked like the Captain had shoved his blade through Rufe's stomach and dragged up somewhat while cutting his throat with his hook. It was grisly and horrifying. I wanted to hurt Killian as badly as he had hurt Rufio, make him feel what Felix must've been feeling, what _I_ was feeling. I wanted to scream like Tink was, but I couldn't. There was this all-consuming, marrow-deep _rage_ and absolute _loathing_ in me, and I hadn't felt that in a long time. I hadn't felt that since then until..." Peter shook his head, dismissing the thought. "Rufe, he-" Peter shook his head again, lightly, a humorless, hollow laugh coming from his nose as he exhaled. "He took Felix's hand and made him swear to be careful. He told him he'd watch over him no matter what, then he took mine and nearly crushed it in his. He made me promise to watch over his 'idiot little brother', and I swore I would. I swore that Felix would be my second and _no one_ else, _ever_. As soon as I promised him everything Rufio faded away, like smoke in the breeze or mist in the sunlight. I swore to avenge him... But Felix beat me to the punch. He launched himself at the Captain, but Hook countered by giving him that lovely scar. I offered multiple times after to fix it, but he never let me. He said he wanted a reminder, he wanted _proof_."

Peter clenched his jaw, stretching his fingers flat against the lid of the chest. "I had to force Felix back myself, stopping him back from attacking again. If we'd been thinking clearly we could've saved him. If someone ran to camp and got a _canteen_, if Tink hadn't been _bawling_, if I hadn't been such a _fool_ and thought to try _magic... _" Self-loathing dripped from Peter's voice, as if the entire thing was his fault and he regretted every second of it, as if he had gone over the scenario in his head so many times it haunted him. "Felix wouldn't let anyone help carry the body back to camp, not even me, not even with magic... That's what happened to Rufio. That's why the pirates are our enemies." Peter ended, his voice rough with a hint of anger and pain rolling under the surface.

I bent my head, staring at my laced fingers, sorrow and compassion for the Lieutenant flooding me. "That's horrible... I can't imagine what he must've been thinking, how hurt he was... Rufio was the first Lost Boy to die, wasn't he? Where is he buried?" I murmured, lifting my gaze.

Still somewhat lost in memories, it took Peter a moment to focus on what I was asking. "Yes, he was the first... We didn't bury him."

I felt a chill begin to creep up my spine. "What did you do...?"

Peter's dead eyes locked with mine. "We burned him on a pyre."

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**A/N: It's not tears, there's just something in my eyes! Now we know a bit of what's in the chest, and more of Felix/Neverland's backstory. We'll get around to Peter's past soon enough, I promise! Also, anyone remember when I thought a pitiful 3,000 was a lot of words? My, how far we've come. Good night, lovelies! Bluemoon, over and out~**


	25. Chapter 24: Magically Painful

**A/N: Hey guys! Miss me? Yes? No? A little bit? I've been thoroughly editing and revising the past chapters (so far I've gotten the first 11 and the prologue updated). Let's all be honest: they sucked. Royally. I didn't change anything major, so if you don't feel like re-reading you'll be fine, but it would mean a lot to me if you guys at least skimmed them and left a review of what you thought (about improvements, subtle differences, etcetera?). School has inundated my life for the past month so I've had absolutely zero time for anything extracurricular and this is only coming out now as a result. As always, thank you ****_so much_**** for bothering with this crazy story! Chapter Twenty-Four, ladies and gents!**

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I blinked slowly, my brows furrowing. Only kings were burned in my land. Sensing Peter might become offended if I dared to ask (but knowing it would gnaw at me until I did), I bit my lip. "Why...?"

Pursing his lips, a shadow flickered over Peter's face. He spoke as if I was a child who didn't understand a simple concept, but at the same time his words rang with compelling truth and a hidden pain. "Because he died a warrior's death, a Lost Boy's death. Rufio deserved to be remembered, not left in the ground to rot. We immortalized him that night. His ashes bring life to the island, to us. His soul is free, Trinket."

The jab leaped from my throat before I could stop it, most likely brought on by the nickname. "Unlike Violet's?" The wistfulness in Peter's gaze hardened to vexation.

"Unlike hers." He spat, the anger from earlier surfacing as he stood, rolling his shoulders back. Still riled, he glanced around at the mess the hut had become, not making a move to clean though he clearly thought it hideous for the room to be in such a state of disarray. "She deserved to be trapped here forever. She tried to leave us behind, to break us. She twisted everyone's mind -everyone except my most loyal, and even some of them had doubts. I won't lie and say I miss her, because I don't. I was glad to be rid of her then, and I still am now." Peter spoke quietly, firmly, the dark emerald of his irises slowly draining of ire. "I expect this place clean when I return. You'll be staying here until I decide what to do with you, and I can't have my pretty little doll living in squalor."

"Clean?" My gaze narrowed, the calm infatuation and compliance that had settled in during his storytelling gone. "_Doll_? I'm not a _toy_ or a _maid_. Perhaps I like the glass on the floor, and since _I'll_ be staying here, it doesn't matter if you don't." Moving instinctively, I flinched as he turned sharply.

Tilting his head in a taunting manner, he grabbed my arm roughly, his nails tearing into the flesh while his grip bruised. "Unless you want to starve and never bathe again, you'll do as I say. If you can make yourself useful for once I might consider allowing you to feel the outside air on your skin someday." Peter added, waving his hand and filling the windows with thick glass, smiling pleasantly. I heard a soft creak to my right that rose in volume as the trap door fused shut. "Until then, clean the mess you've made. If I'm satisfied, I'll bring you something to eat and new clothes to replace these rags, deal?" The tone in his voice didn't leave room for negotiations.

Feeling the cold chill brought on by fear, I shivered, forcing my chin to raise. "And how do you suppose I'm to clean without any supplies? We can't all magic things into place." Peter sighed, shaking his head.

"Are you truly so blind and ignorant?" I started to snap a reply, but he waved away my annoyance. "Fine. Do ensure the job's done well. I would hate to have been disappointed more than once today by you." A wave of his hand materialized two large buckets (one of clear water, the other soapy), a smaller water bucket (presumably for cleaning the glass), a broom and dustpan, a scrubbing brush, and two hand towels on the table top. With a small smirk, he disappeared, the breeze from his teleportation leaving me desperate to escape.

I sank onto the bed, a scream of frustration pealing from me. Irate, I punched one of the feather pillows and proceeded to throw it across the room at the wall, not caring how undignified or unladylike I was being. The dull _whump_ of impact did little to soothe me. No stranger to being locked away, I devised several means of possible escape immediately. Still huffing, I drew my dagger with a satisfying _shnick_, impaling the floorboards where the trapdoor's seam was. Determined, I put my entire weight against it, clenching my jaw as I attempted to force the passage open. My bare feet scrabbled on the floor as I fought to gain purchase. The door wouldn't budge. I beat on the wood with my fist, resorting to pounding the item out of desperation.

Driven, I tore my weapon from the floor with some difficulty, staring at the tiny circle of darkness that was the inside of the tree trunk. I had barely made a dent in the flooring, and now I would have to fix that as well before the tyrannical King returned. Turning to the window, I tried prying the oak grilles from the glass, thinking it might be possible to shatter the panes if I could get them separate. I stabbed at the glass and wood with my blade, growling in frustration as the weapon made no marks whatsoever. Distressed, I began pounding on the glass with the hilt of my dagger, tears of frustration and desperation building. Flinging the blade at a wall in a fit, I dropped to my knees against the wall, allowing all my pent up rage, sadness, and worries to come flooding out. I felt a strange tingling across my exposed skin, like air or smoke bouncing off a wall and back at me. "He can't keep me here. It isn't fair. I won't let him win." I vowed quietly through the onslaught of salt water draining from my eyes. A gentle tap at the window jerked me into a standing position. My jaw fell open slightly as I realized what was happening.

A storm was brewing just to the east of my prison, clouds rumbling somberly. Felix's words once again echoed in my ears. '_Not since the first toy of Pan's cried her first tears.' _Somehow, the thunder assuaged my nerves partially, as if promising that I wasn't entirely defenseless. Swallowing thickly, I resigned myself to admitting that Peter was right: I must have been at least partially magic. Some part of me influenced the island, some part of me filled that tub, but some part of me could also fight Peter, given enough practice. He was in control for now, but I would soon turn the tables.

Encouraged, I took a deep breath, ignoring how the entire room smelled of him and spread my hands wide. Neverland ran on imagination and belief, so why couldn't magic? "I believe. I believe in myself, and that this lamp is whole again. I believe that there is no oil or glass on the floor." I murmured forcefully, opening my eyes to watch in fascination as the lamp pieces vibrated weakly before shooting together, fusing back into their proper place. The lamp itself lowered onto the nightstand just as the oil rose in a slippery yellow wave, the last bit dropping falling into place, leaving a small, easily cleaned stain on the flooring. Giddy, I flexed my fingers, sensing the sudden burst of power under my skin as it gave way to a heady rise. I glanced at the small puncture mark in the floor, debating on whether to fill it. Deciding it would be better to let Peter see I wasn't entirely compliant, I turned to the bed. Blood stained a corner of the duvet and bed knob, the entire thing looked messy, and one of the pillows was discarded between the frame and nightstand. Tossing the set of lace-lined, feather-stuffed pillows on the chest, I clutched the rust-red fabric, shutting my eyes. "I believe that this is clean. There is no blood on it or the bed." I continued with the loose outline for casting I had developed, reminding myself to learn how Peter did the same things (and more powerful things) silently, though I suspected it just took practice. Once the layers of fluffy bedding were crisp and white, I carefully made the bed, even going so far as to fluff the pillows and layer them tactfully like Mother used to. My fingers trailed over the edge of the pillow, and just as I felt the ache begin in my chest -the silent, unyielding wish in my heart- the room smelled of her perfume, eradicating the taint Peter had left. A small, melancholy smile curved my lips as I set to cleaning the blood from the floor, scrubbing roughly to distract myself. Tears prickled the backs of my eyes, but I forced them down. Memories were not something to weep over, they were something to cherish.

Stooping to retrieve the list of names from underfoot, I returned it to its proper resting place, doing the same for my dagger as I yanked it from the wall. Subdued, I sat on the floor of the washroom, retrieving a cloth to clean the dirt from my boots. The slow, lengthy task was soothing. As I focused on the grooves where worn leather met rubber sole, I murmured my belief that the basin was clean and all the supplies neatly stacked on the floor beside it, smiling faintly as the items flew to obey my gentle words. _Magic isn't so bad... I could get used to it._ I grinned, forcing the image of Peter's more vindictive use of his power from my mind as I set my boots on the floor beside the chest, doing a quick survey of the room to ensure it was all in order, noting that there were now only faint wisps of grey outside. Though I'd never admit it, cleaning -when it wasn't a particularly messy job and I was alone- was often something I enjoyed doing. My bedroom at home was in a bout of light chaos, but the rest of the house and shop was pristine -when my father had yet to ruin it.

I took a deep breath, hugging myself in satisfaction at a job well done, slightly dizzy. I woke up hours later to a throaty chuckle and blood trailing into my eye.

* * *

"I must say, I'm pleasantly surprised." Peter crooned, perusing the hut with a practiced eye. "You've done well -though I didn't expect you to wear yourself out so quickly. I suppose I should've warned you: _all_ magic comes with a price. It takes time to work up to having enough strength -enough power- to be able to control your magic well and handle the repercussions." Dragging myself to a sitting position, I dabbed at the crimson stream coming from where my forehead collided with the edge of the chest, wincing as I wondered if he could taste my power in the air like a mutt does rabbit scent.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "That may have been important." I growled, narrowing my gaze against the bursts of soreness where my feather-light touches met bruised skin. Biting my lip, I made a move to stand, nearly pitching backwards at the wave of faintness that shot through me. Peter shot forward, amusement lighting his features as he caught me.

He grinned. "But, if I hadn't you wouldn't have had this _marvelous_ learning experience. Makes it all the more personal, don't you agree?" I groaned, not ready to juggle his games, pushing him away and leaning on my knees with my head in my palms, sitting on the heavy-wood chest. "Now, now, Trinket. Is that any way to treat the person who feeds you?" Peter teased, gesturing to the plate he had arranged on the square table. I exhaled with a hint of annoyance, opening my eyes and standing -or attempting to. I slumped backwards again, hating my own weakness and frailty. Peter caught me effortlessly, his laugh reverberating enticingly through his chest to my back. "You've done well," He repeated, guiding me to a chair. "now let me help."

"Why should I trust you?" I countered, jerking away from his reaching fingers as they neared my head and instantly regretting such a sudden movement when I nearly slammed into the table in an attempt to sit down.

Peter smiled easily, pushing my hand down from my forehead. "Why not? It isn't like you have anything left to lose, Trinket." Seething, I stilled as he gently tapped the skin around my wound, feeling for the extent of the injury. Using my expressions and flinches as a gauge, he settled his palm over the entirety of the injured area. A warmth spread as he applied pressure, slowly draining the pain from my forehead. "There, much better." Peter flashed a grin, standing. "I'll leave your clothes in the washroom." His gaze fell to the small hole in the floor, a smirk flickering over his mouth. "I wouldn't make any more attempts at leaving, Trinket. The enchantment is iron-clad." Peter disappeared before I could protest his leaving.

* * *

Frustration and helplessness boiled in me, knotting my stomach. Being alone for long stretches of time, being abandoned -it wasn't something I handled well. Like any human, I craved companionship. Locked away, I began to worry for my friends, picking listlessly at my lunch despite the grumbling in my gut. Peter would go after them, I was certain. He would know when they tried to visit. He would hurt them, and I would be powerless to stop it. Clenching my fists, I slammed them once on the table, relishing the sharp burst of pain. Peter couldn't heal me all the time, and the pain was what kept me focused. If I wasn't wounded I wasn't fighting, and I was going to fight as if hell itself was inside me. Forcing down my meal without tasting it, I drained the cup he left, watching curiously as it refilled itself.

Not wanting to dirty my new clothes so soon, I hurriedly conjured a bath, scrubbing dried blood off my skin. I allowed myself a few moments to savor the warmth soaking into my muscles before drying off, wrapping the towel around me as I examined the clothing. A pair of trousers that fit me surprisingly well and tucked into my boots without a problem, an undershirt identical to the one I wore (without the singed holes and cuts), a replacement of the green peasant blouse, and, buried at the bottom of the neatly folded pile, a soft, dark brown cloak. After slipping each article on (and questioning how Peter knew I preferred my clothing a bit snug or if he was only doing so for his own benefit), I tested the cloak, lifting the hood and smiling at myself in the beveled mirror.

The inside had a short layer of plush, gray and black fur (I silently thanked whatever animal had given its pelt and meat to the Lost Boys for its sacrifice -however unwilling it may have been) but was breathable, preventing me from sweltering within the material. The edge of the fabric swished around my knees, curling inward slightly to avoid exposing the sumptuous inside layer and keep out the cold. I fastened the sash that would close the top of the cloak, tucking the bow underneath to hide it from view. Turning from side to side, I couldn't help the smile that continued to grow on my face. This cape was a silent promise that I would one day (most likely soon) be outside again. I twirled, laughing softly, not bothered at the moment by how silly I was acting. It was only a wrap, but it was somehow special. I fingered the velvety fur, turning my nose into it and grinning as it tickled my skin.

"I knew you would like it." Peter called, lounging in a chair and watching me through the doorway. Instantly, I turned red in the face, staring at him.

"H-how long have you been there?" I croaked, mortified.

He snickered, coming to stand beside me. "Don't worry, I was only here long enough to see you spinning like a girl at her first ball. I'm a proper gentleman; I don't peep, nor do I have to." Relieved but still slightly embarrassed, I ducked my head, toying with the edge.

"It's very beautiful... Thank you." I murmured, unsure what this gift meant. He adjusted the hood, standing close.

Peter studied my still-faintly-pink cheeks in the mirror, the gentle way my hair curled, the way the cloak cradled my face in shadows. "It was time you had one. You've proven yourself different from the rest." Hope lit in my gaze, making the corner of his mouth curl. "I'm not letting you out yet, but don't look so disappointed." Peter leaned over my shoulders, pulling the hood forward further, covering my forehead and darkening my eyes. "If you can manage to keep this good behavior I'll be taking you with me to pay our dear Captain a visit when he returns in three days time. Does that sound like a fair enough deal?" I briefly wondered what would happen if I wasn't the perfect pet. Too many horrors flashed behind my lids for me to dwell on the alternatives for long. I had no choice in the matter. It was do as he said, there was no second option. Quickly, I nodded, my fingers curling against the plush fur. "If I had known it only took making you clean the hut I would've saved myself all this trouble." Peter grinned, pleased, leaving me unsure if it was meant to be a jest or a sincere statement.

Nervous, I ducked my head, biting the inside of my lip. "This pelt, where does it come from? I've never felt anything like it before." I questioned, deeming it a safe topic. Surely he wouldn't kill me for asking about clothing?

Peter's hand slipped beneath the edge of the cloak, sliding across the material before settling on my lower back. He angled his face closer to mine, widening his eyes slightly in preparation for a marvelous bit of educating. "A beast native to the island. Larger than wolves at birth, just barely smaller than the greatest of bears when fully grown," His fingernails dug into my spine, his gaze glittering maliciously as I squirmed. "With claws to cleave the flesh straight from your bones and jaws to split you in half. We call them Ursu," Peter murmured lowly, dragging his own set of claws slowly across my back as I shivered. "A bastardized version of the Latin term for bear, though their full name is Daemonium Ursu Lupe, but that's a bit of a mouthful, wouldn't you agree?" He didn't stop for an answer, instead preferring to trace the lines of my ribs and vertebrae teasingly. "Their fur is one of the most coveted items on the island, much like you. It's the softest thing you can imagine, like touching a cloud. If memory serves me, Tootles was the one to imagine a beast with a pelt like heaven, but he never elaborated on his creature, so the island made it a bit more challenging. We couldn't have the Boys getting lazy, could we? In all our years, we've only caught one, and it was young. Large enough to wound nearly half the hunting party, but not enough that I was called. We had an unsteady truce with The Tribe at the time, so they helped us bring down the beast in exchange for half the meat and fur." Peter's nose wrinkled as if they wouldn't have dared had he been present. "Rufio agreed, ever the diplomat attempting to keep the peace. Tiger Lily's trap finally secured our victory, but Nibs finished the thing off." Slowly, his gaze came back into focus, a small smirk forming. "This is the last bit of the pelt leftover. It had been sitting in the storage tent, so I had the nymphs use it to make your cloak. Every Lost Boy that's earned it has animal fur inside a special cape. Felix has a lining of Rismage," The 'g' became more of a 'sh', spoken softly as Peter lost himself in the stories and facts. I listened eagerly, curious. "A sort of tiger-like feline with venom in its spit. Tootles chose skunk pelt, Nibs has rabbit fur, the Twins have raccoon, Alex has black wolf pelt... Many Lost Boys will have fur patches on their shoulders for decoration, but very few have special cloaks with fur actually in them. They're for special occasions, like meeting with pirates and faeries or for death ceremonies, not to be worn whenever."

"I'm honored." I responded, blown away by the hidden connotation. What had I done to earn the pelt of a beast so fearsome only one had been killed by Lost Boys? Peter had made it crystal clear that I was at his mercy, a throw-away toy only kept so the others wouldn't have me, so why would he go out of his way to do something like this for me? The only thing I could think of was that the item was going to make me a larger target or that it was for my funeral attire when I was murdered. Briefly, I wondered if I would be burned on a pyre like Rufio or if I would be damned to roam Winter Woods till the end of Neverland like Violet. Disturbed, I blinked once, reeling from how unstable my mind was becoming. What sane person would sit around thinking about how they would be killed?

Peter had continued speaking, oblivious to my lapse in attention. "-should be, it's a tremendous accolade, but I've already said that. Now, onto a more pressing matter. What must I do to make you happy here?" He raised his brows expectantly, a small smile playing on the corners of his mouth. I faltered, blinking rapidly as if that would dissolve the illusion before me.

"What?"

Patience wearing, Peter repeated his question, speaking a fraction slower. "What would make you happier while you are here, in the tree house?" Hesitant, my brows furrowed. I tilted my head away slightly, doubting his intentions. "Oh, come now, Trinket. Is it honestly so unbelievable that I want to give you gifts? That I want a fresh start?" Brows raising into my hairline, I gaped at him.

"Who are you and what have you done with Peter Pan?" I deadpanned, only partially joking.

Smirking, he rolled his eyes, a hint of annoyance in his gaze now. "Answer the question, Trinket. I haven't got all day."

Fumbling, I glanced at the floorboards, shuffling my feet nervously. _I might as well try while he's in such a pleasant mood..._ "I want you to teach me." I decided, lifting my chin with a new strength to my posture. "I want to be able to use magic like you do, and I can't learn by myself without certain disaster."

Peter began to shake his head slightly, not wanting to give me even a chance at power. "It would make me happy, and you wouldn't have to do as much for me." I added, forcing an entreating lilt to my voice, refusing to beg. "And besides, if you don't teach me I'll just try to figure things out on my own and burn down the hut." I hid a grin at the twist to his mouth, watching as he deliberated in his mind. Something clicked and he smirked.

"Fine," Peter relented, a warning in his voice as he glared at me. "But keep in mind that I can take it all away as quickly as it came. If you disobey me I will strip you of what feeble magic you have _and_ your shadow." I had no doubt he would follow through with his threat, but, for the most part, I was unafraid. Something in Peter had shifted, albeit temporarily, since my escape of death, and I was fairly confident that I had seen all the cruelty he had to offer by that point. What could he do to me that he hadn't already?

I dipped my head in a small nod, accepting his demands but not stopping at one achievement. "I also want to see my friends."

"You don't have friends." Peter scoffed, peering at me as if I was ill.

Clenching my jaw, I took a deep breath through my nose, glaring at him. "Just because you say so doesn't mean it's true. Alex, Fox, Slightly -_those_ are my friends, just like Felix is yours." He looked faintly wounded, drawing to his full height and taking a half-step backwards. "I have a right to see them. They deserve to know I'm alive." A small lie, as they already knew I was breathing, but I wanted to be in their comforting company all the same.

Looking at the ceiling as if it held the answers he sought, Peter countered with another question. "You expect the world of me, don't you? I can only give so much, Trinket. I've told you stories, I've let you play your silly games, I've given you protection, I've rescued you from pirates and healed your wounds. What more could there be?"

I shut my eyes, pushing down the frustration building in my throat. If I wasn't calm he would most likely revert back to his sadistic chasing of me and carving of my skin. For my own sake and the sakes of my friends, I had to play nicely with the psychotic Boy King despite the simmering anger that always tangled with a sharp affection for him in my heart, but no one ever said it would be easy. "I didn't ask to be here, you know. You stole Luke, and then you stole me. It was by _your_ doing that you got into this mess, so step up and accept responsibility for your actions for _once_ in your life. If I am to stay here I will be treated with _respect_ and like a _human being_. I want to see my friends, and you will not deny me that." I informed him curtly, my finger pointed firmly in his direction. Peter arched his brows in surprise at my sudden outburst, a laugh bubbling in his throat.

"Is that so? And what will you do if I say no, dirty up the room again?" Peter sneered, narrowing his emerald gaze. "I'm _terrified_."

I leveled my stare with his, my fingers curling into fists. "You don't know what I could do. Maybe I'll use all the magic I have to teleport to the Tribe. Maybe I'll land on the Jolly Roger! Or even_ better_, maybe it'll all go wrong and you won't have your bargaining chip anymore." I crossed my arms, feeling a shiver at the venomous glower the first Lost Boy was aiming at me. "You _should_ be afraid, Peter. I'm not a doll, and I'm not weak. You can't toss me around and then expect me to melt in your hands because you brought me pretty things." I reached for the ribbon, pulling the tidy bow I had knotted loose and tossing the cloak at him spitefully. "Keep it. I suppose I won't be leaving anytime soon now." I stormed past him, knowing full well I had nowhere to go.

I stared out the thick panes of glass with loathe, pressing my hands to it as if the enchantment would give way with a sturdy shove. Practically shaking with ire, I slammed my fists against the window only to be sorely disappointed when nothing happened. The pain blossomed freshly, sharpening my awareness. I hit the glass again harder, feeling the beginnings of bruises form. An impatient growl rumbled in my throat as I hit the window again, harder still, determined to break either the glass or my hands, whichever happened first. I could feel Peter's heated stare on my back, daring me to keep ignoring him. My lids fluttered, suppressing tears as I pounded the glass again, blocking out the violent bursts of pain along the sides of my palms.

Peter's voice cut through the silence of the tree hut, piercing my ears with its coldness. "Do you really think so little of me that you can't accept a gift anymore?" A soft rustling and gentle snap told me he had folded the cloak, placing it on top of Rufio's chest. "Pleasant dreams, Trinket. Perhaps your attitude will have changed in the morning." The room chilled, the lacy curtains billowing with his exit. I kept my back to him the entire time, shutting my eyes and resting my forehead against the window, noticing an irritation that began to spread over my skin lethargically, stemming from both my fists and head. I winced quietly, grimacing as the twinge evolved into a throb, rooting into my skull and muscles and sweeping through my blood. Trembling, I fell into the nightstand, knocking my jaw against the side and worsening the headache. Fevered, I knotted my fingers in my hair, squeezing my eyes shut as a burning sensation smothered my shoulder and back, leaking across my torso and arms. Fearful, I peeked at the skin, biting my lip as the angry red welts slowly reappeared. A stabbing pain buried itself in the front of my left shoulder, blood pooling from the fresh wound and rippling over my burns. A whimper tumbled from my mouth as the sting from smoke inhalation returned, hurting my eyes, nose, and throat. I shook, tears pooling in my eyes and doing little to cool my face. My ribs split with a loud _crack_, the noise reverberating in the hut with my blood curdling scream. I fell to the side, curling in a fetal position with my back to the nightstand, my head hitting the wall and setting off the white noise from the forest in my ears. A sob tore from my throat as the scars on my forearms ripped open, blood spilling to the floor, though I barely heard myself. The welt on my forehead from before returned, the split of my lip from Violet leaving a copper taste in my mouth. A hollow, feeble cry managed to get past my lips before the darkness swallowed me.

* * *

**A/N: Ta and Da. I was a little unsure about the middle, but I'm pretty proud of the ending for this chapter! A little pronunciation help, in case anyone was wondering: Day-moe-knee-um Uhr-soo Loo-pay; Rihs (Like wrist without the t)-ma-sh. I decided that Neverland needed some fantastical beasties, so these two things were born! I don't know if I described the cloak thing well enough, so I'll elaborate down here. The cloaks with fur on the inside are only worn by special LBs on special occasions. You have to earn it, so Pan giving Bree one is huge. ****I will do my best to update sooner rather than later, but I can never be sure anymore. Thank you all so much for your support as I continue this psychotic endeavor! Bluemoon, over and out~**


	26. Chapter 25: A Fairy to Visit

**A/N: I'm a horribly slow updater, I know. Trust me, it hurts me, too. I'd like to truly, deeply thank everyone that is supporting this story and showing their appreciation. You all (my wonderful, amazing readers) are what make this worthwhile. Chapter Twenty-Five!**

* * *

I felt my body trembling, convulsing without my consent as the magic forced a reaction to the non-existent Dreamshade. My muscles spasmed, jerking in random flickers as my eyes rolled to the back of my head, blood trailing from my mouth. I felt bile rising in the back of my throat, the pain combined with the screeching white noise forming a killer migraine and churning stomach. I gasped for air weakly, feeling the life slowly leaking from my limbs as blood from my various wounds, and the shock from the sudden development, shut down my body. Half-conscious, flooded with agony and disoriented, I could barely move, screams ripping from my vocal chords violently as every little nick, scrape, and splinter resurfaced alongside the more obvious wounds. Coughs racked my body, leaving a sandpaper texture in my throat. I could smell the sickly sweet poison of Dreamshade wafting in the window mingling with the tangy copper of blood, the saltiness of tears, and the general mustiness of sweat from overexertion. I choked on a gurgle of blood and noise, my lungs reacting violently to the lack of oxygen, squeezing me with the threat of darkness on the edges of my blurry vision.

I briefly wondered through the chaos flashing in my mind if it would be worth it to let go. It would surely end the hurt, I reasoned. However, what would that mean for the people I was leaving, for the quest I would be abandoning? I had been trying for so long, fighting since that fateful night. If I gave up now it would all be in vain. A high-pitched whine of torment pealed from my lips, echoing in the hut and teasing me. Weakened, I fought for a full breath, feeling my ribs splinter and protrude from the broken skin with the effort. My skin was peeling and bubbling as my temperature rose, my feet aching with every step I had ever taken, my breath shortened by every sprint, every ache. The pain was raw and all-encompassing. Every fiber of me was pulled taut with the agony, stretched past the maximum, blackened with depravity.

Panting, I couldn't help but question if it was all real. I had had dreams like this before on Neverland, why was it any different this time? Of course, I couldn't remember falling asleep, Peter wasn't looming over me and laughing, mother and Luke weren't berating me with scathing words, and it all felt a touch more real than a dream could possibly ever be. If I'd had the strength I would've pinched myself to test if I was awake. I _had_ hit my head, hadn't I? Did I dream Peter waking me up and healing me, giving me those gifts? Was I still sprawled on the floor, waiting for him to return? How had I imagined such a complex thing as a Neverland cloak hierarchy? The fantastical beasts that roamed the woods?

My body was hit with another wave that slowly ebbed, draining some of the pain with it. I dared to hope that it would take the hurt away completely over time, but it only seemed to fluctuate. Time passed not in labored breaths or weakly pumping heartbeats but in the dull rotation of pain from high to low. I couldn't tell how long I lay there, shuddering, bleeding, kissing the gates of death and cruelly being dragged back.

The agony climaxed eventually, stripping me of the last of consciousness at last, letting the tide of dreams drag me under their crushing depths.

* * *

"I was beginning to wonder if you would even come." A soft voice murmured, resignation mingling with a hint of sadness in their voice. Taking a breath of the darkness, I blinked, futilely trying to see through the black nothingness of my dreams.

"Violet?" I called, reaching blindly outwards to both protect myself and feel the comfort of another person's presence.

A gentle hand grasped mine, thin fingers cold as ice cradling my trembling ones. "Do you know what she did, Bree?" Violet questioned softly, settling beside me in a pooling of skirts. I shook my head mutely, unable to understand. I was only asleep. I was only waiting for the pain to pass long enough to make it bearable. What did Violet mean by 'she'? Hadn't Peter done this? "You're almost dead, Bree. You lasted much longer than I had anticipated. You're very strong, very brave... You don't know, do you...?" Her lips parted in shock, wide eyes the color of her namesake opening further.

I pursed my lips, shifting to sit more comfortably, one hand planted on the ground beside my thighs as I tucked my legs to the side. "What are you talking about? Who's 'she'?" Violet blinked rapidly, shaking her head.

"_Tinkerbell_. She's _furious._ Peter wasn't supposed to give you that cloak. He wasn't even supposed to let you _live_. Tink and him had made a deal with the Tribe. He swore to bring peace to the island -or at least to their side. Tinkerbell wants you dead, and she's desperate. Having you around is making her less and less important. Up until you arrived her and Tiger Lily had been the only girls on the island for _months-"_

"Tiger Lily?" I cut in, wetting my lips. "Peter's mentioned her before. Who is she? One of The Tribe?"

Violet nodded, teeth pulling at the inside of her lip nervously. "She's the princess, the Chief's daughter." She plucked at her skirts, smoothing the pale fabric. "She's very popular with The Boys. Peter likes her well enough, but he's brutal when he makes deals with The Tribe. Vicious, you could say. They always benefit him in some way, and very rarely does it help them. He claims letting them live is enough." Violet shook her head in disgust, forcing herself to return to her original objective. "The point is that Tinkerbell believes you've worn out your welcome and don't belong here. She wants her standing back, because, as things are now, you rank higher than her in Peter's eyes. The girls he brings very rarely last longer than a month, and you've been here for roughly two. Your resilience and tenacity are what's keeping you alive on Peter's end, but Tink thinks your time is up. She hates you for ruining the peace by deviating from the normal standards, so she's done this." Violet gestured to the marks lighting my skin and the blank slate of my dream.

Fearful, I swallowed a knot in my throat. "How do I stop her? Can I reason with her, make a deal -_anything_?" Violet pursed her lips, gaze traveling over the ruffled hem of her dress. "Violet, _please,_" I took her hand, worry furrowing my brow as my voice shook. "I don't want to die."

Uncertain, she drew her bottom lip between her teeth at a corner. "If there was a way you could make her see that she's still just as important as before, if you could help return the peace to the island, if you could somehow _escape_..." Excitement lit her eyes as she grinned. "That's _it_! You can barter passage home! She wants you gone, you want to leave- it'll be _perfect_!"

My smile faltered slightly, the stormy blue of my gaze dimming. "I can't leave, remember? The water." _And my friends... And Peter..._ I thought to myself, a twinge of sudden loneliness hitting me.

Violet's face fell, her fingers curling into fists in her lap. She mulled over the situation in her head, gears furiously whirring as she attempted to solve our issue. "Well, what if... What if she could create a spell or something to protect you? What if the pixie dust could remove the effects of it?" Hope lit her eyes, so much so that I didn't have the heart to tell her I was as good as dead. Confusion flooded me as Violet began to fade, sudden trepidation lighting her face as she grasped my hand tightly, her mouth moving without any sound leaving.

"Violet? Violet! Violet, what's happening?" I yelped, grabbing her other hand as well, feeling them slowly turn to air in my grasp as she left me to rot in the darkness alone, something dragging me far away. Swallowing the bile rising in my throat, I cast my gaze about frantically, clawing at the non-existent ground and kicking while my limbs were still numb. I was shaken roughly, a rumbling noise like a growling wildcat pressing at my ears but not quite making it past them to allow me to register the sound for what it was. When I next screamed, twisting violently, I was dropped with a bruising lack of care. Cheers and hollering surrounded me, smothering my brain from all sides. Light shot through the darkness, blinding me as I threw an arm up to block the stabbing sun. The agony rushed back into my body, arching my back and stinging my eyes while I writhed as if I could move away from it all. One voice broke through the throng, calm and quiet, full of authority.

"Wake up."

* * *

Choking, I coughed, heaving in a wheezing gasp of air, my throat raw and my mouth tainted with the salty-copper of blood. I braced my forearms in the dirt, squeezing my lids shut tightly against the flood of senses. The cacophony of noise in the distance was overwhelming, the feeling close to spears being shoved in my ears. The rich scent of the earth beneath my fingers, the pine and oak and dogwood, the blood and sweat sticking to nearly every inch of my skin all pierced my nose. Quivering, I hacked like a feline with a furball in their throat, my entire body shaking with the ferocity. A small silver bell covered in blood and phlegm shot from my mouth, the bottom closed with a folded piece of parchment inside. Panting, I collapsed onto my side, hair tumbling over my shoulder and face, splaying out over the grass and dirt. Squeezing my eyes tightly once more, I dared a peek at the dizzying world I had been thrust back into so suddenly.

A pale hand with a matte-black ring circling a thin finger plucked the bell out of the dirt with an off-white cloth, disappearing as sounds of cleaning began near my head above a crouched body. All I could see of the person was a pair of plain black boots with black pants tucked in and a dark wood bow tenderly lain on the ground beside them, but the information came together with sudden clarity. Alex was with me, watching over me. I felt safer instantly, the tense preparation for a fight leaving my body in favor of tenseness to stave off the torture rushing through me. I couldn't see much behind my best friend, and I could see even less thanks to the dark brown boots that were planted beside him keeping a stranger wearing tan pants and a deep brown cape balanced as they kneeled.

"Well?" An irritated voice demanded. "What is it?" My entire body felt too sore to flinch away when Felix's club stamped into the ground near my chest and his foot. What would these two be doing together? They were bitter rivals!

Alex's lack of sarcasm in his response further muddled the situation. "It's a _bell_..." He murmured, confusion painting his tone.

Shuffling startled me, but I remained lying, soft whimpers of discomfort bubbling in my throat. "What's that thing inside it?"

"Give me a minute to open it." Alex sighed, the sound of a dagger being pulled from its sheath followed by a soft pop as the cap fell off. "Do you think she's alright?" A hint of hope mixed with the thick worry of his voice.

Felix gave a noncommittal shrug, taking the paper Alex held out. "'The death toll chimes for this broken toy.'" After a heavy pause Felix growled, crumpling the tiny note in his fist. "The hell does that mean?"

"It means that Tink is trying my patience." A low voice rumbled just behind me, a displeased exhale pushing from Peter's nose. "It means she's warning me to get rid of her before she does it herself and that she's the one responsible for this. She's been trying to scare her off for a while now, but this has crossed a line. Now she's questioning my authority and judgement." Another shudder spasmed me as I whined lowly, curling into a fetal position to push away all the hurt. A gentle hand grasped mine, Alex's thumb brushing over my knuckles comfortingly.

"What are you going to do?" Alex whispered, the underlying tone of a challenge in his question.

I could almost sense Peter narrowing his eyes, berating his Lost Boy for being so dull. "I'm going to make sure she understands that I won't tolerate treachery of any kind from anyone, as if that wasn't already abundantly clear. I'm going to punish her for defying me and my decisions. She will pay for going behind my back, that you can be certain of."

"You're going to hurt her." Felix deadpanned, not bothering to pose it as a question. I blinked hard under the curtain of my hair, staring at him curiously, my fingers twitching. There was determination there, the hardness and blankness I had come to think of as Felix's resting facial expression, and a tightness to his jaw as if he was clenching it, but in his eyes there was ambivalence and uncertainty that he was hiding under eagerness.

Peter's chin was most definitely raised, his mouth curving at the corners as his brow arched. "I am." The rest of his sentence remained unspoken, but we all heard it. '_Is there a problem with that?' _He seemed to taunt with face alone, head tilting slightly as he dared Felix to argue against him.

Felix said nothing for a few heartbeats, quickly smoothing his face of any expression at all. Peter would make him respond, I knew, so I acted quickly, a quiet groan that did no justice to the cellular-level of pain I had reached slipping from me as I lifted my hand to my forehead, pushing myself up on one unsteady arm. "Where am I?" I demanded, nearly collapsing again due to the torrent of dizziness in my brain.

Alex perked up, steadying me with a hand on the shoulder. "We're a bit outside camp, just out of sight of guards and watchtowers. How do you feel?"

Grimacing, I squinted up at the canopy, adjusting to the outdoor light. "I feel like every bone in my body is bruised and every muscle is torn. My skin feels like it's on fire and my throat is raw. I'm just peachy." I rasped, biting back a cry as Alex's hand shifted to my back, keeping me upright while unknowingly pressuring a large burned and bruised area.

"Pan?" Alex asked, his clear gaze darting from my face to his leader's pleadingly.

Shutting his eyes and sighing sharply through his nose, Peter snatched my arm up, holding it so I could examine the damage. I gasped at the jostling movement, shutting my eyes and scrunching my nose. "Look." He ordered, shaking my limb again, brow raised and mouth pressed to an annoyed line. "I said _look, _Trinket."

Taking a few deep breaths, I cracked an eyelid open a fraction, jaw dropping as I stared at the perfectly clean skin dusted with dirt. There was no blood, there was no blistering scorch marks, no carvings. "How...?" I whispered, staring at him in utter disbelief, mouth dry. Everything still hurt like I had been tossed down into the very depths of Hell, tumbling the entire way. He glanced at Alex and Felix, dismissing them. The duo spared me a glance before standing with identically stiff postures and standing a few yards away to keep out any wandering Lost Boys.

"It's all in your head. The brain is an organ, just like your heart and lungs. It can malfunction and be sick, too, but it can also be manipulated. Tink set a curse over you through the wards I had around the hut when you had your hands against the glass. You aren't even scratched, Trinket. She's playing with you, twisting your reality." Peter explained calmly, his eyes locked onto mine with deadly seriousness. "Do you understand me? You aren't hurt; you just think you are."

My breathing stuttered unevenly as I tried to wrap my brain around what he was saying. "How do I know that _this_ isn't the delusion then? How do I know that _any of this_ is real?" I questioned fearfully, twisting my fingers nervously.

Peter paused, brows furrowing. "Felix used to say that when he was unsure if something was a dream or not he would look at his hand. If it was normal he was most likely awake, but if it had extra fingers or was transparent he knew for certain he was asleep." I spread my fingers wide compliantly, flexing them and poking my palms. Everything was in proper order, but I wasn't entirely convinced.

"You said 'most likely'. If the deception is strong enough I'd never be able to tell." I countered, cold crackling up my spine.

The Boy-King rolled his eyes, leaning forward as if to tell me a secret. "Alright, so say I were to kiss you right now. Would that make you believe this is real?" He arched a brow, a devilish smirk playing at his lips. I leaned backwards slightly. If anything it would make me certain I was dreaming. He inched closer, tilting his head, eyes closing. My frightened gaze darted over his entire face.

"_Ouch!_" I yelped, nearly leaping out of my skin and knocking my head against his. Peter pulled away, chuckling as I rubbed the sore spot on my arm where he had pinched me. "What was _that_ for?" I growled, earning the attention of our two sentries.

"Are you awake now?" He teased, grinning in a smug manner and standing.

"_Yes, _thank you _very _much." I snapped, carefully assessing the appalling lack of damage to my body. The dull throbbing had left, but the ache in my throat remained. _You did scream an awful lot._ I reasoned with myself, standing on unsteady feet and shaking out my limbs experimentally.

Alex watched me with a mother-hen sort of gaze, concerned. "Any better?" I nodded in response, an angry scowl on my lips as I shot a dark glare Peter's way, forgetting for a moment that he could kill me with a snap of his fingers. He smiled cheekily, taking the items that had been lodged in my throat from Felix.

"It would appear that we have a fairy to visit." Peter studied the note, tucking it and the bell into a small bag hanging from his belt at his side. "The weather has been getting out of control by Tink's hut lately. The winds coming in from the Echo Caves are drawn to her magic, but because there's too much power floating around the island now it clings there. Be ready for anything." He warned, his gaze sweeping over each of us with an uncomfortable weight. What we were about to do was dangerous. we could be hurt -killed, even- if we messed up. "Alexander, go to camp and retrieve your cloak and a weapon for Trinket. Coat your arrows in the sleeping powder. We want her alive if things go awry." With a nod, my best friend headed off at a light trot. "Felix, go inform the guards that we'll be gone for a while. Have one of them put Nibs and Tootles in charge until we return."

The six-foot-one lieutenant left without a word, giving me a semi-grateful glance (which was as close to a 'thank you' as I would get). Peter watched his back till he disappeared into the treeline, turning to me with a small frown. "You look terrible." He commented lightly, giving me a once-over.

I bristled, glaring at him. "Oh, really? I thought I looked like a bouquet of roses." He rolled his eyes, smoothing my hair gently while I tried not to fidget.

"When did you last sleep? I mean, _actually _sleep, not pass out." Peter questioned quietly, toying with my part till he returned it to its original place above the natural arch in my left brow, squinting slightly as he worked.

I shrugged, focusing on his nose to give myself something to do. "A few days ago. Two, maybe?"

"And before that?" He moved to my arms and face, gently dabbing the dirt off with a damp cloth he had pulled from the air.

"A week...?" I answered hesitantly, unsure. "I haven't really slept much at all since I've been here. I don't feel the need to very often since I'm being knocked out so frequently." His mouth curved downward in displeasure as he examined the mess my fingernails had become. With a wave of his hand they were clean, rounded, nearly perfect. I blinked in confusion, staring at my hands. We were going to a possible battle. What did my appearance matter? "What's all this for?" He made a quiet hum of question. "All of _this, _this... Fussing over me."

Peter raised a brow, the cloth disappearing. "Presence is a large part of winning, Trinket. If you look healthy and able the enemy is less likely to attack. I can't do much for how thin you've gotten, but your cloak should hide that well enough..." He reached into the space behind me, flicking his wrists and unfurling the plush fabric that hadn't been there before, draping it over my shoulders and tying the satin bow with nimble fingers, smoothing the entire thing with a satisfied smirk. "There. Much better. Now, chin up. Don't look afraid and she'll give you more of a chance." He tapped under my jaw as he had done my very first night here, the teasing glimmer to his eyes not matching the situation we were entering into at all.

Felix returned with Alexander not far behind, both with determination etched in their posture. Alex dipped his head respectfully to Peter, moving beside me and pulling weapons from a rucksack he had had slung over his shoulder. "Put this around your waist. It'll hold all your materials. _This_," He brandished a decent-sized broadsword. "Goes in that sheath. These go in _here_," He displayed a set of six small throwing knives, tucking them into the notches in the belt beside each other with three on either side of the buckle. "And _these,_" He grinned faintly, holding up a matching pair of curved blades and tucking them into the larger spaces at my sides. "Go there. Be careful not to cut yourself. This little vial of death goes in that pocket, and this powder goes in there, too. Don't mix them and don't pick up the wrong one." I nodded, unaccustomed to the heavy weight that was now strapped around my hips. It seemed a bit excessive, but I forced a small smile.

"What about you?" I poked his shoulder lightly while Felix and Peter whispered back and forth, planning. Alex grinned, holding up his bow proudly.

"I have my baby, and then a blade in my boot, a sister pair to your sparring daggers, and my wits. I'll be fine." He assured me, glancing over at Peter and squeezing my hand comfortingly. "_We'll_ be fine."

I swallowed the dryness in my throat, nodding quickly as Peter turned around. "Alright. Let's get this mess sorted out." He grabbed my wrist and Felix's shoulder, leaving me to hold tight to Alexander and Felix to grab a fistful of Alex's cloak.

* * *

"Stay low and be quiet." Peter whispered in my ear, pulling me down behind a thick berry bush. "She knows we're coming, but she doesn't know we're here yet." Felix crouched behind a large boulder, mouth parted slightly as he tilted his head to the right, peering into the small area below the tree Tinkerbell's home was built in from the side. Alexander was across the miniature clearing, perched high in a tree Peter had carefully levitated him to with a full view of the area and obscured by leaves. Felix glanced to his leader, gaze sharp and expectant. Peter nodded, gesturing for him to go scout behind the small house. I gnawed at my lip, anxiously palming a throwing knife. "If you stay right here she won't see you. Don't make a sound." Peter ordered, his voice barely audible.

A rapid, bird-like whistle filled the air, tensing Peter significantly. "She's here." His dark emerald gaze scanned the sand-and-dirt clearing expectantly. With a noticeable smirk, the green-clad fairy emerged from near where Felix had been hiding, a basket swinging on her arm as if she didn't have a care in the world.

"I must say, I thought we were past all this." Tinkerbell sighed breezily, setting the wicker basket on the first step of the ladder hanging from the tree. One hand was planted on her hip as she turned gracefully, a condescending smile settled on her serene face. "Come out and play, Pan..." She crooned, watching the treeline with hawk-like eyes.

With a small smirk, Peter vanished, reappearing roughly one-and-a-half yards from her, shoulders back and gaze lazy. "Hello, Tink." His mouth curled upwards at the corners, his voice relaxed. "Having fun?"

"Loads." She grinned, raising and lowering her brows once quickly, twisting to reach into the basket. "Apple?" She offered, her smile widening. Peter shook his head slightly, head tilted to the side as he watched her. She shrugged, returning the fruit and plucking a handful of grapes to slowly munch on. "Come on, Pan. Don't be so formal." She chided, her smile seeming to be uncontrollable.

Peter ducked his head briefly, sighing. "You know why I'm here, Tink." He murmured, a hint of danger leaking into his voice.

The fairy's casual demeanor dropped, her cheery expression falling. "Straight to business then." She dusted her hands of imaginary dirt. "We had a deal. I was just picking up your slack." Her posture stiffened almost imperceptibly, her hands falling to her sides loosely. The sky above began to stir, the air heating as the humidity rose.

Narrowing his eyes threateningly, Peter's lip curled in controlled anger. This wasn't how he'd planned things to go. "That wasn't your decision to make. I've told you before, but I'll say it one last time to ensure you remember: Breeana is _mine_. I will do with her what I wish, and you are not allowed to touch so much as a hair on her head." It was then I knew he had changed tactics.

The fairy laughed, her wings chiming as they fluttered. "Don't act all gallant. We both know you don't actually _like _the doll." Her gaze swung back to him, her smile slowly returning as her mouth parted. "_Right, Pan?_ Or have you gone _soft_?" There was a vindictive wickedness to her stare now, as if she had seen something in his face that I couldn't from my position in the bushes. "Do your Boys know? Does _Shadow_ know?" Tinkerbell berated him, narrowing her gaze. "Have you even told your _best friend?_ Surely he can tell, _right Felix?_" She called over her shoulder, as if she had known where he was all along.

Peter rolled his eyes. "It's only me here, you know that. This is a delicate matter you've tangled yourself in. Obviously, I couldn't allow anyone else to handle it. As for your _concerns_, you're being ridiculous. You've known me since I was an _infant_, Tink. I don't get attached to toys and pretty things." He scoffed, shaking his head like he couldn't believe she was insane enough to even think such things.

"But you've grown attached to _this_ pretty thing." She corrected, practically bubbling with giggles. "Soon enough you'll be doing every little thing she asks. You'll give her more pretty things to surround herself with, and you'll fall and fall _hard_ -if you haven't already. It'll be Violet all over again, but this time you'll watch your world crumble around you, and you'll realize too late that I was right all along." She laughed, her voice teasing and bright, patronizing.

Sneering, the Boy-King clenched his fists at his sides. "Intriguing theory, wrong as it is. I'm not here to talk about her, though. Our deal was that I would bring peace to the island and calm the storms. I'm doing just that. I'm sorry if it isn't happening as quickly as you want." He snapped, not apologetic at all. I wanted to flee, the bone-deep terror of his anger gripping me tightly. "Maybe we have to make war to have peace, seeing as you've thrown this lovely invitation my way." He tossed the bell at her feet. Tinkerbell's eyes followed the small projectile, a small smile forming again.

"War before peace... That does sound like something you'd enjoy, doesn't it? I'm not interested in fighting you, Pan." She sobered, piercing him with her stare, her voice wavering slightly. "I just want things to return to normal. If she isn't gone I _will_ be your enemy. Right now I'm your friend warning you about the grievous mistake you are making. Tiger Lily agrees with me that we have to get rid of her before further damage is done. The island is deteriorating rapidly. It's sick because of _her_. She can't control her magic and it's running_ rampant_ with her emotions. Every step she takes more of it seeps into the ground like poison." Tinkerbell's mournful plea evolved quickly into boiling rage, hatred for me evident in the rigid way she stood. A dry crack of thunder shook the earth, radiating in my chest.

Peter sighed, deflating slightly. "You speak as if I don't already know this." He gave a humorless laugh through his nose, nodding. "The point is that you went behind my back and damaged my property -on more than one occasion. Now, because we are friends, I'm inclined to go easy on you, but this kind of betrayal is unforgivable. Don't you trust me to fix things, Tink?" He murmured softly, a hint of hurt slipping past his facade. "As my oldest friend, don't you believe in me?" The words seemed to echo in the dead silence that followed. Tinkerbell's wings shuddered, falling limp against her back.

"How could you say such a thing?" She whispered, pain clear in her expression. She seemed to be quivering, as if she couldn't contain her emotion. I remembered my mother saying fairies were so small they could only feel one emotion at a time, and they always felt it very strongly. Granted, Tink wasn't small, but I assumed the same basic principle applied. "Peter," She gasped, tears lining her eyes as the wind picked up. "Of course I believe in you. I couldn't ever _not, _but it's this _girl_. She's _changing_ you, Peter. Can't you see that? I- I _had to_ do _something._" She stammered, overwhelmed. "I _had to_ get rid of her! If you change the island changes! All this chaos isn't _just _because of her. It's _you, _too." The fairy shook, hugging herself tightly. Peter's gaze slid behind her, beckoning Felix out of the shadows silently.

The lieutenant took Tink by the shoulders, gentle but firm as his hands pulled hers together, binding them with rope. Tears began to slide down her face. "Felix, please, y-you have to make him listen to me." She begged, turning her wide eyes up to his. Despite being six inches shorter and a rumpled heap of sadness, she somehow managed to not look like a child. There was an initial glare of anger that flickered towards apologetic before being masked altogether as Felix shut his eyes, clenching his jaw tightly and looking to where Alexander was perched. "Felix..." She whispered brokenly, sniffling. Peter watched with an amused tilt to his head, smirking. He was confident that Felix's loyalty was much stronger than whatever was going on between him and the fairy. The Lost Boy's sky blue gaze snapped to her, concerned before he had a chance to look indifferent. Peter narrowed his eyes a fraction, arms crossed. Alex dropped from the tree with a heavy thud, looking to Peter first then the bush I was in. It was enough to distract the sadistic leader from the predicament his best friend had worked himself into.

"You can come out now, Trinket." He called, adjusting the leather cuff on his wrist. Uneasily, I stood, my limbs shouting at the stiffness and kinks I was quickly working out. Tinkerbell's reddened eyes found my guilty, pitying face, darkening and dying as she fought down her sorrow and replaced it with cold disinterest. The temperature dropped, the wind ceasing completely.

I came to stand at his side, my gaze occasionally darting to the captive fairy before inevitably returning to my boots. "Pleasant dreams, Bree?" She taunted, sounding falsely curious. Curling my fingers, I pulled my cloak tighter around me, waiting for Peter to say we could leave so I could be out from under her frigid stare.

Attempting to nudge him out of whatever stupor he was in, I looked up at Peter. "Is she telling the truth? About the island? Am I hurting Neverland?" I murmured, my brows furrowing in worry.

He blinked, taking a moment to decide his response as he watched Felix and Tinkerbell. "Yes."

"Does that mean I'm hurting you since you and the island are linked?" I inferred, biting the inside of my lip nervously.

"Somewhat." He muttered with difficulty, not wanting to answer.

I dropped my gaze to the ground again, biting back the apology I was forbidden from giving. Things were making sense now. Tink didn't just want me gone because I made it rain every once and awhile. She wanted her friend back to normal. She wanted _the island_ back to normal and all its inhabitants with it. She wanted Peter to be alright again. I could understand and sympathize with that.

Peter wanted me gone because I was making him different and because I was hurting Neverland. He was paying back the pain I caused with his games and spite, never telling me why. If he _was_ changing like Tinkerbell said, _was it_ because of me? Did he not entirely loath me, or did he absolutely abhor me to the point where he became unstable? I struggled with the moments he had seemed sweet and caring, the times he protected me and hid me from danger. Had they been real? Had they meant anything at all?

Alex didn't dare try to comfort me, instead remaining halfway between the four of us, awaiting orders as the tension and animosity in the air grew thicker by the minute. Felix had his head bent slightly, mouth hidden behind the large bun on Tink's head. I couldn't hear if he was speaking or not, but a part of me believed he was. Maybe he was trying to soothe the fairy, maybe he was threatening her. I couldn't be sure either way.

"We're going to Hangman's Tree." Peter announced suddenly, grasping everyone's attention. I glanced at Alexander, hoping for an explanation, but he remained mute, moving to grab one of Tinkerbell's arms with Felix as we all formed a circle again. This time Peter grasped my hand, allowing the air to swallow us all once more.

* * *

**A/N: In case anyone's wondering, Parker Croft (Felix) is 6'1", and Rose McIver (Tink) is 5'3", but I didn't want Tink being _that_ much shorter than Felix and also being shorter than Bree. Since I made Bree 5'6" I made Tink the same height. Call it creative licence. We are coming veeeery close to the end, my friends. Since I don't write these out in advance, I'm gonna guess and say we have a chapter or two left. _Maybe_ three, but it isn't likely. I hope everyone likes this chapter! Also, once I finish this story I'm going to either write a prequel about Violet and Early Neverland and all that, or the sequel to this, depending on what the most people want, so please review/send me a PM! I'd love to hear what everyone thinks/wants! Bluemoon, over and out~**


	27. Chapter 26: Goodbye, Breanna

**A/N: ****I can't put into words how many emotions this story has thrown my way. You all have responded so positively and honestly to it, and it makes me proud, happy, anxious, and loved. I know I probably sound like a broken record when I say I'm _extremely _thankful and grateful for every single reader, but it's true. I wouldn't have continued this story without the motivation you all give me! I know my updating is probably annoying, and sporadic, but so many of you have kept with it. I'm really truly sorry this chapter took so long, but I couldn't seem to write it. I couldn't imagine what would happen, but I finally got it done. Thank you all for everything. **

**Now that I've gotten all the mushiness out of the way, Chapter Twenty-Six!**

* * *

I held tight to Peter's hand, swaying more than the others as I struggled to find my footing on the unfamiliar terrain. He pulled away quickly, grabbing Tinkerbell roughly around the arm and dragging her closer to the looming, gnarled tree till he threw her against it. I winced, both from the thoughtless rejection and from the pain that crossed the fairy's face. Felix's jaw clenched as he stared at the ground, forcing impassiveness. Alexander drew his bottom lip between his teeth, glancing at the second-in-command and then me, his face guarded and blank. My fingers curled around the hilt of a sparring dagger beneath my cloak, my nerves feeling thoroughly frayed. Tink didn't put up a fight, instead turning her face down and away as Peter growled lowly, threatening her and berating her. My grip tightened till my knuckles were white against the silver of the weapon, stark against the deep warmth of my cloak. As high strung as we all were in that moment you would think we would've noticed the darkness falling, the sudden whipping winds and shuddering of the forest, but we were oblivious as we waited for Peter to be done, to strike the now frail-looking fairy and toss her away. She would become his enemy, be forced to never return to camp -exiled for all intents and purposes. He would rule his kingdom how he wished, wreaking havoc and spreading carnage with depraved euphoria.

"You think you've won, that you've outsmarted me, don't you, Tink? You think I'll go back to trusting you once I vent all my anger. Somewhere, some_how_, you still think of me as that naive infant that wanted to believe in everything so much he was able to see the fairy that mended his pots and china at night. You've become lazy, _soft _and _dim_. You never had to come here, Tink. You never had to _stay,_ either." Peter seemed to tower over her menacingly, the thick gray of the clouds blocking out the weak light and plunging the area into darkness. "I'll tell you something," He continued, head tilting to the side carelessly as he froze her in place with a stare. "Something you've been guessing at for centuries. I _have_ changed. I'm not that sweet little child any longer. I've evolved into someone greater, stronger. I'm far more powerful than you'll ever be, and it was _you _that helped me get there. Ironic, isn't it? You're no match for me now because of your own _foolish_ beliefs and hope." He spat, both smirking and baring his teeth at the same time in a vicious, predatory snarl.

To her credit, Tinkerbell absorbed each harsh word without a peep, biting her tongue and biding her time. Her gaze darted to Felix, pleading with him to stand up to his leader, to speak on her behalf and convince him what she had done was for his own good. Felix couldn't hold her stare, wilting away from it with a flicker of betrayal and pain in his eyes. No matter what he felt for the fairy, his first loyalty would always be to Peter, and we all knew it. It hurt him that Tink thought he was capable of committing such treason as to go against his king, but he felt as if Peter was purposely hurting him by abusing the woman he cared for and forcing him to watch. In a way, I knew Felix was right. Peter had a reason behind everything he did, motivation to each minuscule movement and syllable, so it only made sense that he knew it was torture for Felix to be unable to rescue her. No, this wasn't a random act of violence brought on by anger. Peter had something planned, and the ominous churning in my gut said it had something to do with me.

Peter didn't miss the begging look Tink was sending his lieutenant's way. His eyes narrowed, the color darkening as his emotions swirled, unbridled, in the sky. "He isn't going to save you. You're both utter _fools_ if you think I haven't noticed." He growled spitefully, a deep-set rage twitching in his jaw and fingertips. "I know _everything_ that goes on in Neverland. _Everything_. I'm not stupid enough to think it's all a coincidence." With a sharp _snick_, he drew his dagger, pressing it to the fairy's throat. "I _know_ that it drives him absolutely _insane _to see you bleed..." He laughed hollowly, a brief, broken sound as he applied more pressure. "It drives him crazy, you see," Peter cocked his head, wetting his lips as the animated story-teller in him jumped to life like it had the night he told me of Rufio. "Because he doesn't want you hurt, but..." He grinned, shifting his weight. "But, the sight of pain, of suffering, it's like a _drug_. It's pixie dust meeting wine. Once you get a taste, you'll always want more." Felix clenched his jaw tighter, making me wonder how he hadn't broken any of his teeth, staring at the ground with vehemence. I blinked rapidly, tears spilling over as I took in a shuddering breath. A line of dark red beaded underneath the blade, rolling down her neck and pooling on her collarbone. "It's almost like a rabid dog. Once he catches a whiff of it -once _any of them_ do- nothing can save their victim."

"Pan-" The blonde Lost Boy rumbled, the beginnings of a plea slipping before he could bite his tongue. Peter took the blade away, turning to observe Felix, his mouth opened slightly as the hate-filled words died on his tongue. As irate as he was, Peter never had the intention to hurt his closest friend, even if he took pleasure in tormenting nearly everyone else. Felix's stare remained fixated on the leaf-strewn dirt and grass as he swallowed thickly. Peter's jaw worked as he willed Felix to look at him, to assure him all was well and revert back to normal. When the taller Boy made no move to even look at his leader, Peter rounded on Tinkerbell.

"That was your plan the whole time, _wasn't it_?" He hissed, shaking her roughly when she didn't answer. "**_Wasn't it?_**" He shouted, making me jump at the sheer fury and abhorrence that echoed in his voice. "You were going to get close to him and then steal him away, topple my home and use my lieutenant against me. You think you're so _clever_." He growled, seething as Tink sniffled in the beginnings of a quiet sob, shaking her head. He jerked away from the fairy, ferocious loathing and twisted amusement lighting his face. His smile was more of disbelief than happiness -though, knowing him, Peter was probably pleased as peach-cream-pie to know he was right, at least in his own mind. He chuckles were dark, almost forced. Blinking, more clarity filled his eyes. He turned to watch the rest of us, eyes narrowing almost as if he had forgotten we were there even though I knew he had been playing to his audience of three vigilantly.

Alex's head was bent, his eyes shut as he did his best to not fuel Peter's anger, murmuring rapidly to himself in what I guess was a prayer, though I never thought of Alexander as even remotely religious. Felix looked pained, his face scrunched slightly as he willed away this nightmare we had landed in. I bit my lip, my throat constricting as I realized how similar Tinkerbell and I were, how human Felix could be. She wanted the better side of Peter, too. She believed there was good in him as I did. She was afraid of what he was becoming, of the monster he didn't bother trying to hide. Felix was torn between his best friend and life on Neverland, a possible love and growing up. He was in a similar position to me, in a roundabout way. He had centuries of memories, friendships, battles, and loyalty tethering him to the island, but with Tink he had the possibility to be set free from it all, to live a normal life. I shrank into myself when Peter's maniac stare landed on me, face and hands twitching with livid rage that he barely kept under wraps. "Peter," I whispered, my fear and concern plain. "Please, please don't do this. Can't you see how wrong it is?"

He smiled blandly, clenching his jaw and bobbing his head in a half nod, looking at Alexander with mild interest before staring me dead in the eye. "Everything is wrong, is it not? To one person or another everything will be considered wrong or unethical or _sordid_, even if it's just an everyday occurrence for someone else." He drew out the 's' a fraction, jaw working as he refused to let me go from his glare. Peter's body rippled as he stood straighter, cold overtaking the flicker of consideration in his dark gaze. "On Neverland, nothing I do is wrong. I am its _king,_" He spat, turning into a savage version of himself all over again in the blink of an eye. "And anything -_everything_\- I say goes. I am the only reason this island survives, the only reason the _people_ on it survive. If they can't abide by my ruling, then they can leave," He raised his shoulders in a slight shrug, eyes widening as he tossed his hands out. "But there is only one way off Neverland without my powers, and most people are too cowardly to take it." Peter watched me intently, waiting for my inevitable counterargument. It wouldn't be long before he grew sick of me and turned back to Tinkerbell. I desperately wanted her to run, to fly away, but I knew she never would. Peter had the entire island in his grasp with iron-clad certainty that he ruthlessly defended and enforced.

Swallowing the lump of trepidation in my throat, I took a hesitant step forward. He followed me with his eyes, chin raised just a bit. "We all know that. You're _the king_, and no one wants to take that from you." I began placatingly, spreading my hands wide to show I had nothing in them. "She's learned her lesson. She knew from the _moment_ you came and found her you were displeased. I understand you feel the need to make a spectacle out of her actions so that no one would dare repeat them, but it isn't necessary, I _promise._" I was close enough to smell the jumble of enticing scents that was Peter, close enough that all I had to do was reach out and touch him. Afraid, I pulled in a deep breath, looking into his face imploringly. "Everyone on the island knows you are in control. You are the one true ruler of Neverland, of the Lost Boys, and you're powerful enough to destroy someone with a twitch of the finger. You don't _have to_ do this to prove that. The greatest leaders know when to eradicate their enemies, but the very _best_ know when to be _kind_, _compassionate_. They know when to _forgive_." Peter's lip curled in disgust as he readied to snap at me. Boldly, I held a hand up. "Let me finish. You don't _need_ to take her life. You don't _need_ to hurt her. It isn't just. It isn't _fair_. She was doing what she thought was best for you! Can't you see that? Every infraction she has committed was for your benefit in her eyes. Shouldn't the intent outweigh the actions? Shouldn't the punishment be fit for the crime? A ruler that murders their friends and advisers and populace does not inspire a loyal following! They inspire _fear_, and people who are afraid will do things without thinking, things that they can't fully comprehend." Pausing, I took steadying breaths, praying I was getting through to him. Behind us, Tinkerbell was blinking away tears, watching me with confusion.

"That's all very _moving_, Trinket," Peter sighed, bored. "But it doesn't matter. Why do _you_ care what happens to her? Do you _pity_ her?" He arched his brows, angling his head slightly. "Do you... _forgive_ her? Help me understand, since you seem to know me _so_ well." He goaded irritably.

Wetting my lips, I exhaled, forcing myself to remain calm for everyone's sake. I couldn't possibly tell him that I would've done whatever I could to save him if placed in Tinkerbell's position. "I realized that she had plenty reason to do the things she did. She wasn't doing any of this out of spite or hatred. She was doing it," I bit my lip, casting my gaze down. "She was doing it for you. For Neverland. She was willing to do anything to help, just like any true Lost Boy, even if it meant you hating her." Peter clenched his jaw, stewing. He could hear the truth, the thought I had put into what I said. Despite how much he wanted to repay the pain and betrayal she had given him tenfold, Peter knew I was making sense, and he absolutely hated it.

Rolling his next moves in his head, Peter relaxed some. Alex hesitated, glancing to me with worry-filled eyes. I gave him a small nod and smile, stretching my fingers in a gesture that said 'stand down, breath'. Parting his lips to call across the clearing to me, Alexander froze, ducking his head and chanting forcefully, quicker than before. Peter's head snapped up, his head swinging in Alex's direction. Too absorbed in whatever the hell he was doing, my best friend didn't notice the murderous glower being aimed at his head. "She won't be saving you anytime soon." He taunted lightly, eyes narrowed as he smirked.

Alexander's gaze widened. Panicked, his voice came out barely above a whisper. "What did you do?" He demanded, shaken, ready to fall to his knees.

"I got rid of a reoccurring issue. Where she is now she'll never be my problem again." Peter growled. "And soon enough," He turned towards Tinkerbell. "You won't be either." I jerked forward, unable to help myself as my fingers locked around his forearm.

"That's _enough._ Leave-her-alone." I ordered, making him round on my incredulously. Felix's gaze lifted underneath his hood, brows furrowed, lips pursed in confusion with hope lighting his eyes. I could hear his airy laugh in my mind: 'There's the girl who came to the island!' "She's suffered enough. _Look at her! _She's _terrified_. You're going to lose two of your closest friends, all because you can't admit when you're being an idiot. Your _pride_ is _pointless." _I snapped, gesturing with my free hand, refusing to let go despite his homicidal glaring. Stubborn, I stared right back at him, clenching my jaw and praying I wouldn't lose my nerve. From the corner of my eye, Alexander stared, mouth agape.

His voice was deadly low, his teeth showing more than in normal conversation. "Get your hand off me."

Narrowing my eyes, I tightened my grip, bobbing my head to the side as I spoke. "No."

Peter's muscles flexed as he clenched his fists, shifting under my grip. "_Get your hand off me_. I won't ask again." He commanded, speaking slowly as he attempted to control himself. Insolent, I lifted my chin, taunting.

"_Make me._" The air blew fiercely, tossing my hair over my shoulders and around my face. A loud rumble of thunder shook in my chest, the lightening in the sky a dull green-yellow. Peter stared back for a few heartbeats, seemingly shocked that I had the audacity to say such things to him. I got the feeling that people simply did not argue when he gave an order if they wanted to keep their heart inside and their body intact.

His voice was so quiet I wasn't sure I had heard it. "_What did you say?_"

Blinking a few times, baffled, my mouth opened slightly. What _the hell_ was I doing? "You heard me perfectly." I found myself saying, not backing down from our staring contest. "I said: _make me. _If you want someone to blame, you can blame me. I'm the reason all of this is happening. I'm the one that didn't die. If you're so _big_ and_ bad, _then _make_ me let go yourself. It isn't that _hard_. After all," I smiled bitterly, lowering my voice to a whisper. "I'm just a trinket."

Stunned, I gasped for air, my fingers curling around his arm as I tried to stay standing, my nails piercing his skin and drawing blood. Laughing weakly, I shot a grin his way. Peter's hand had plunged into my chest past flesh, muscle, cartilage and bone, tightening around my heart and leaving me gasping unsteadily in bursts, my head tipping back. Swallowing the salty copper tang rising in my throat like bile, I shook, a single tear slipping down my face. "Go ahead. Win your little game. Take it. Put it with the rest. Add me to the hundreds of forgotten if it makes you feel better." I rasped, chest heaving, my previously free hand locked in his sleeve. Peter's lips parted, though no sound came out save for his slightly labored breathing. His eyes flickered over my face, the ire and violence leaking away to be replaced with a hint of fear and indecision. Blinking rapidly, almost as if he was on the verge of tears, he took a sharp step back, taking the vital organ with him. My nails scraped at his arm as I fell to my side, uncertain whether I was relieved it would all be over soon or heartbroken, inundated with confusion. Why would Peter hesitate to kill me, his greatest problem?

Throwing all care away, Alexander darted to my side as Peter waved his hand, my heart disappearing while the Boy-King himself stumbled back a few paces, staring at me in disbelief and disquiet. Felix had leaned forward a half-step, stopping himself and staring at Peter with wide eyes. "Bree!" Alex shouted, tapping my cheeks as my lids fluttered. "Bree, come on. Bree, please, you have to stay awake. You can't fall asleep, do you hear me?" I coughed, squinting at the pain stemming in my chest.

"Alex," I whimpered, my hand quivering as I attempted to hold his, small whines and gasps bubbling from me. "It hurts." His face took on a pinched expression, and he forced a small grimace, smoothing my hair and pulling my head into his lap.

Soothing, calmly, Alexander spoke in a hushed tone. "I know, Bree. It'll be alright, but you have to stay awake. Fight through it, like all those times before. Deep breaths, in and out. You'll be just fine." He swallowed thickly, his head snapping up as a chilling voice I'd hoped to never hear again pealed from above. Through the dizzying waves slamming into my body, I was able to make out two blue pinpoints that were much too large to be stars, and I knew if I could see properly I'd see the faint outline of Shadow in the night sky, hovering.

Peter greeted the specter back blankly. "Shadow has received the call. The girl has lost her heart." He informed Peter without any inflection in his tone.

"I know. I took it." Peter replied, still sounding half-dead.

"Shadow has come for the other half." He stated.

"No." Peter halted the cold inching closer as I squirmed, attempting to move but being weighted down by the sudden ache. "You haven't. You've come to escort Tinkerbell back to her hut. She is to remain there until I come." He instructed firmly, making his servant tilt its head curiously.

The chill slowly leaked away as Shadow moved. "Come, fairy." He extended a hand to her, voice devoid of emotion.

A tense silence followed where Peter waited for them to be out of sight. "Get her up, Alex." He murmured.

Alexander clenched his jaw. "What are you going to do?"

Peter hesitated, swaying on his feet slightly as he chose his words. "I'm going to do what I should have done months ago, and you're going to do as you're told." He eventually snapped, impatience peeking through, as if he absolutely needed this all to be over with right then and there. Carefully, my friend slid an arm around me, lifting me to stand. Most of my weight rested on him as I blinked hard, clearing my vision the rest of the way. The pain I felt was like a solid force lodged in my chest. Peter blew out a slow breath, reaching into a pocket on his belt and pulling out a white, glowing bean. "I'm going to send her away."

Felix had taken a few cautious steps forward, his head cocked to the side as he stared at the item. "Is that...?" He breathed, jaw dropped in amazement.

"That it is." Peter muttered, pausing as he clenched and unclenched his jaw, shutting his eyes and taking a deep inhale, rubbing the item between his fingers and tossing it on the ground. "And it's one of the many tricks I have up my sleeve." He moved around the hole rapidly forming, the wind whipping his hair and Alex's. The Lost Boy shifted in front of me slightly when his leader approached, blocking his path. Casting him a withering glare, Peter took me by the arm, pulling me towards the swirling vortex. "Leave us." He ordered, not bothering to explain. Felix dipped his head in respect, giving me a steadying stare before he left. Alexander strode up to me, pulling me into a bone crushing hug and whispering in my ear.

"I'll never stop looking for you. I promise to never forget you." He pressed a kiss to my temple, slipping an item into my pocket as he moved away, turning and not looking back. The miniature land-hurricane began to glow, pulsing as it churned rapidly.

Scanning the trees hurriedly, Peter took a sharp breath that sounded almost like a sniffle. He cupped my face in both hands, staring into my eyes. "You were never just a trinket. You can leave the island now. I'm setting you free." He explained quickly, a deep-set pain in his eyes. I felt an almost magnetic tug beneath my skin wherever he touched, like he was dragging something out.

Shaking my head, I covered one of his hands with mine, the other resting on his face. "I know, but I don't want you to." I admitted, my eyes burning as pinpricks stabbed at the backs of them.

"Goodbye, Breanna. To live will your biggest adventure." Peter whispered softly, capturing my lips in a tender, gentle kiss. I leaned into the embrace, tears spilling over. With a light push, I fell backwards into the portal, my fingers slipping against his before the magic swallowed me whole. I clutched my hands to my chest, squeezing my eyes shut. The air roared before the vortex spat me out above deep blue waters, the sky a heavy blue-black. The impact knocked me breathless, and I felt that drowning-in-air feeling one more blissful time before the last of my consciousness faded, the waters covering me.

* * *

**A/N: I'm not crying, there's just feels in my eye! I know it's pretty short compared to my other chapters, but it just kind of happened this way. Once I got writing that was it, and it finished itself. **

**_Little Story Explanation Bits: _No, Bree isn't dead, but she's finally off Neverland (Yay?). In case some people are like "shouldn't she be dead, since she drank the water and left?": Nope! Author loop-holes, hahahaha! When Pan took her heart the poison couldn't infect it to kill her anymore, and if that isn't enough, Pan created the island. When he said she could leave he was also taking away the binding magic the water creates, thus enabling her to leave and adding to the "no one leaves this island without my permission" thing. I'm sorry if that seems a little far-fetched for some people, but it's kinda just how it happened, like I said above. This thing was a pain for a while, and then it was like "Okay, write me now, puny human."**

**_Exciting News! (?): _I'm intending to write both a sequel and prequel, but I need to decide which one to write _first, _and I'd love your guys' opinions on which you want to be the one I start publishing next. School's gonna be starting again pretty soon for me, and I still have a crap-load of stuff to do before then. Whoopsie. **

**Like I said, this story is literally my baby, and I've poured my heart into it. There will always be typos and little grammar things to fix or edits that could improve the writing, but I'm completely enamored with it and the characters in it. I hope you all are, too. This is the concluding chapter of _For The Love of the Demon_. It's been over a year and a half since I published the crap first try at the prologue, and the entire story has under gone series edits and plan-changes since then. In the end, I'm pretty frickin' proud of this story, and I'm overjoyed so many people like it (love it, maybe?). Thank you all for sticking with me and my psycho-sporadic updates. Thank you for tolerating some minor OOC-ness with the characters, and for some really crap chapters that needed a serious revamp. Just, thank you for even reading. It means so so much when I go through and see the reader count going up with each chapter. Until next time, Bluemoon, over and out~**


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